How long?
by broodingbat
Summary: Nothing more than a simple, unpretentious romance, which I started writing on request of a close friend of mine. HaldirOC. Not a Mary Sue. Not a “girl falls and bosses the show”. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own it, I make no money of it, it is all for sheer pleasure. A little feedback would be nice. A nice little feedback would be even nicer. :)

**How long?**

Chapter 1.

Memories can talk.

_You'll love me yet and I can tarry_

_Your love's protracted growing:_

_June reared that bunch of flowers you carry_

_From seeds of April's sowing._

_- Robert Browning_

"Beleg!"

A golden-haired Elf turned to her jolly call, and a smile flashed on his face, powdered with road dust. With light steps he moved towards her, leaving behind his fellows who hadn't yet managed to dismount. In a moment she appeared in a hug so intense that it was hard to breathe.

"Beleg, you're strangling me," squeezed out she. The Elf laughed, but loosened the grip a little.

"I'm sorry. I missed you too much," his light-green eyes ran over her face, studying each small feature, "You are growing prettier with every day, my beauty."

"And you are the same sloven," teased she tenderly and wiped away a dirty spot on his cheek.

"Good morning, lady Aerwain!" hailed someone of Beleg's companions, "Your brother longed to see you so much, that gave no rest either to horses or to us."

Aerwain smiled and waved to the laughing Elves. Some of them she recognized easily, others seemed completely unfamiliar, but it didn't matter. The friends of Beleg, Elves or Men, were always her friends, too.

"Greeting only me?" smirked her handsome brother, "There is Haldir with us - didn't he deserve your embrace? You know him from the childhood!"

Haldir, the March Warden? She cast another look at the party and met a reserved glance of the eyes of that unusual, changing blue, which stuck in her memory almost from the first days of her sentient life. The smile slipped off her lips. In Haldir's presence she always felt uneasy. Though, no – there was time when she didn't quail at the sight of this strict, marble-cut profile, this firm line of the lips and the haughty turn of the broad shoulders. There was time when the March Warden, who hadn't been one yet, often visited their house, exercising his rights of her father's close friend, although he was much younger than her parents. She herself wore short dresses then and was only beginning to babble something conscious. The impeccable and manly figure of the Elf, his glistening armour and splendid bright cloaks enchanted her – whenever he called on, she climbed onto his laps with a triumphal shriek and refused to get down till his very departure, playing with his fair hair, asking and telling about some flapdoodle. Tactful Haldir stood this torture with honour. It sometimes appeared to her that he treated her more mildly that he would treat anyone else. From a visit to a visit he brought her flowers or toys, may be, to draw her rapturous attention off his person.

And then came a day when, having stormed into the room where her father and Haldir were sitting, she suddenly fell shy. Something didn't allow her to throw her arms round his neck as she had done it a million times. Instead of it she just made a timid curtsey, and settled quietly in a corner without raising her head. Since then she never spoke to him as to an equal, for they were not, and couldn't be equals.

More years passed, and Haldir almost ceased visiting their house. He was now appointed a March Warden. He more often associated with her elder brother Beleg, than with her parents. With her he exchanged formal greetings and no less formal empty phrases. And only Beleg, who had a sharp memory about everything that had been happening for all those years, bantered her without end, pretending to be sure of her tender and reciprocate disposition for the Warden and convincing everyone else of it. However, his jokes didn't have any special success with anybody – it was too impossible to believe in Haldir's passionate amorousness with whoever there was. Especially because that "whoever", imputed to him, was twice younger.

Having realized that she'd frozen like a statue, mindlessly staring at the bridge of the Warden's nose, Aerwain shook off her stupor.

"Of course, he did," smiled she, approaching the Elf, who declined his head in a bow, and weaving her arms around him for a second, "Good morning, milord Haldir. Everything is all right at the borders, I hope?"

He returned the embrace, barely touching her back. Smooth strands brushed against her cheek easily.

"It is, indeed, milady Aerwain," replied he calmly, "As it is here, I believe."

"I'm glad to hear that," said she with sincerity and stepped back from him, "Will you pay us a visit? Father will be happy to see you."

"Not now, milady. I'm afraid I have some obligations to fulfill."

She didn't insist, shrugging a little instead.

"Aerwain, and haven't parents come to meet me?" her brother was looking around, disappointed.

"They were summoned to the Lord and the Lady," responded she, turning away from the estranged March Warden, "Though they must have returned by now. Let us go, shall we?"

Beleg nodded and took her hand, beckoning a bunch of squires to take care of his foamy horse. In a blink of an eye the adolescents unsaddled and drove away a tired animal.

"Come, my beauty," said he, "to tell the truth, I'm starving."

"Good luck, Beleg!" his fellows weaved their farewell, ready to break up, "Good bye, lady Aerwain! Do not forget us."

"Good bye!" echoed Aerwain with a smile.

But, having made several steps she surprisingly for herself glanced back at Haldir, who was still standing motionless at his snow-white steed, and following them leave.

"I'd be really very glad if you agreed to come, milord Haldir," pronounced she softly, "I hope you can find time for us."

Something elusive changed in the face of the March Warden, but the alteration was so minor, that Aerwain couldn't even say for sure, if she hadn't dreamed of this odd gleam of warmness in the unreadable blue eyes.

"I cannot refuse you, milady Aerwain," he put his hand on his heart and bowed again, "I'll come tomorrow, if you wait for me."

"How can you doubt it? We shall wait for you any day."

"You… You are very kind. Hope to see you later. Good-bye," for some reason it seemed that there were some other words eager to fall from his lips, but he just mounted again and in a breath disappeared from the clearing, as if never having been there.

"It was only you he spoke about," remarked Beleg with a reproach.

"Nonsense," cut off Aerwain, her pensive eyes still chained to where the Warden had vanished. She got already used to such statements on the part of her brother. Though this time a thing strangely close to regret stirred in her… For the first time she vaguely desired Beleg to … to be right. No, that was fairly impossible.

"Come one," muttered she, pulling him by the hand, "I'm hungry, too."


	2. Upbraid me not

_Thank you for the feedback, it was very sweet of you. :o))) I wouldn't mind another bunch of reviews. Thanks again._

Chapter 2.

Upbraid me not.

_Reproach will seldom mend the young, _

_  
If they are left to need it;_

_  
The breath of love must stir the tongue, _

_  
If you would have them heed it._

_- David Bates _

A heavy silver pin slipped out of her hair, making unruly tresses scatter over her shoulders again. Too sleek for a decent hair-do, as always. From time to time she envied those who managed to weave their hair in whatever nets they wanted.

Uttering an irritated snort, Aerwain threw away a useless piece of metal and grabbed her brush.

"That's better," muttered she after several energetic strokes, examining the results of the execution. Light locks ran down her neck in soft waves and spilt over her chest to glisten dimly on the green silk of the dress.

"Aerwain, darling! Lord Haldir has come!"

"I'll be now!" cried back she. Thin bracelet easily weaved itself around her wrist, and a moment after she was in the common room.

The March Warden, who was already sitting, stood up at her arrival, a smile playing in the corners of his mouth only.

"Milord Haldir!" exclaimed she warmly and held out a hand, which he took into his carefully and brought to his lips for a blink of an eye, not kissing, but merely warming it with his breath. Aerwain blushed with slight yet perceptible uneasiness, which appeared as soon as she entered the room. Smiling, her parents watched her make a somehow forced bow to Haldir.

"Indeed, Aerwain," reproached her mother, "You behave as if Haldir is a stranger. Where's your hospitality?"

A shadow of annoyance flitted in the March Warden's eyes, left unnoticed by everyone but Aerwain. To reduce the strain, she attempted to impart to her manners as much carelessness as she could.

"I am sorry," said she, not letting go of Haldir's hand and making him come back to the settee, "I must have yet failed to believe that you still decided to visit us. May I offer you some wine?"

"And some for me…" Beleg made himself heard timidly.

"And some for you," laughed Aerwain with relief at the thought that there was at least one elf in the house to support her in fulfilling her duty of a hostess instead of telling her where to go, what to say and what to do, "Lord Haldir?"

"Yes, thank you, milady," responded the March Warden.

The goblet with the purplish wine wasn't trembling in her hands when she was passing it to Haldir. She herself had barely tasted the fragrant liquid, while lending half-an-ear to the conversation between her brother, their guest and Beleg, who occasionally dropped a word or two. Something about orcs and wargs, fights and suchlike things… Suddenly her mother gasped, looking out of the window.

"Berenon, we had to be at your brother's already! It's impolite to be so late."

Haldir put aside the goblet immediately and rose, expressing his readiness to leave.

"Oh, no, my friend, stay," Aerwain's father shook his head, "Beleg and my daughter will certainly refuse to let you go so soon."

Beleg nodded eagerly. The Warden was hesitating, his wide brows knit.

"Lord Haldir is bored," supposed Aerwain, "He will hardly agree to share our company."

Haldir whipped to her swiftly. It seemed that her remark had caught him off-guard – his eyes reflected an intricate blend of confusion and protest. But his face immediately became impenetrable again.

"I didn't want to bother you, milady," said he courteously.

"What made you think that you bothered me?

"Better stop arguing," chuckled Berenon, "You know Aerwain. There's no elf born who can object to her.

The hard mouth of the Warden folded into a slightly condescending smile, and, stung to the quick by it, Aerwain regretted her insistence. But Haldir, no doubt, had already decided to stay.

The door behind her parents closed. In set-in silence thundered a relieved sigh of Beleg, and Aerwain, having failed to restrain herself, burst into giggles.

"Aerwain!" exclaimed her brother indignantly, blushing to the roots of his hair.

"Beleg!" took off she and stood up to gave a tender hug to the abashed elf, "We are no society lions, are we?"

"Look at yourself!" cut off fretful Beleg, but in his eyes the cheerful sparkles were dancing. The girl put her head on his shoulder and gave a start at once, meeting a heavy stare of Haldir, whose expression grew stony again. Now there was not a trace of that softness, so uncharacteristic of him, and in his detached silence Aerwain divined offence at such a demonstrative negligence on her part. Beleg, being the indirect reason of the incident, grew red once more, no merriment seen in his confusion this time.

"Forgive us," mumbled he under his nose. The March Warden didn't drop a word, still looking at the couple coldly.

Yielding to an inexplicable, almost childish surge of coquetry, Aerwain stretched her hand for the silent accuser and echoed Beleg:

"Forgive us, milord Haldir."

Meeting no counter touch, her fingers just brushed against the sleeve of his tunic, and awkwardly slunk back, into the secure closeness of Beleg's embrace. A sincere gesture has suddenly become a clumsy endeavor to remedy the situation. Biting the lips, Aerwain lowered her head not to see Haldir's chin, jerked up arrogantly. But he wasn't going to encumber her with his company and his contempt longer than the decencies required it.

"It is for me to apologize, milady Aerwain," enunciated he blankly, "I've been abusing your attention for too long. If you allow, I must be leaving."

"Haldir!" cried Beleg almost pleadingly.

"I'm waiting for you tomorrow, Beleg," the March Warden was inexorable, "Milady Aerwain. Have a good day."

He nodded slightly and moved to the door with quick steps. Beleg tried to dart after, but Aerwain caught him at his sleeve, forcing him to stand still.

"Let him go," rapped out she in the icy voice, when they appeared alone again, "You did all you can."

"Exactly," huskily agreed Beleg.

"Nonsense," like yesterday at the clearing, retorted she, "Someone just needs to be a bit less implacable. Forget it. Tomorrow everything will be fine."

"I wish you were right," sighed her brother.


	3. I abide and abide

Sorry for the delay, guys. Computer issues + intense job schedule is not too inspiring.

Review, will you? Thanks!

Chapter 3.

I abide, and abide…

_I abide, and abide, and tarry the tide,_

_  
And with abiding speed well ye may._

_  
Thus do I abide I wot alway,_

_  
N' other obtaining, nor yet denied._

Sir Thomas Wyatt

"Aw!"

The needle, having too zealously transfixed the soft silk, went into her finger with all its sharpness. Aerwain pressed the puncture with her lips quickly not to let the drop which oozed leave a spot on the dress she had been poring over for a week already. Gwilwileth wouldn't have forgiven her a dirty wedding gown, and she was not going to lose one of her best friends.

The blood stopped almost at once, and reassured Aerwain gripped the needle again, preparing to make another stitch. Aw!

"Enough of me," announced she out loud. The finger was covered with prick marks. The ribbon, she had tried to sew onto the carved collar, became completely spoilt. As well as her own mood. And she knew whose fault it was.

Despite the resoluteness with which she had been persuading Beleg not to pay attention to the incident with the March Warden, a small gray cloud was lying on her soul. It miffed her to recall the happening. Offence and disappointment in Haldir's eyes didn't leave her in peace, just as the contempt, which had resounded in his fare-well phrase.

She couldn't blame him for it. Their behaviour deserved nothing more.

But she didn't want to admit that she had fallen in someone's esteem. Especially when it came to those whom she didn't deem alien to her. And lord Haldir, as her mother had justly marked, was not a stranger. Yes, he wasn't close for her either. She gave him almost no spare thought when he left the borders of Lothlorien to disappear for months at times. The only one the worried about then was Beleg, and Haldir's name she remembered only with that of her brother – as the name of the one who was strong and reliable enough not to leave her the only child of her parents.

Putting a kerchief against her tattered finger, Aerwain smiled involuntary. Strange, but it had never come to her head that Haldir could be in want of protection, too. He seemed too invulnerable, too serene… Perhaps, she just got used to seeing him through the eyes of a little girl, who was so easily enraptured by the strength of his arms when he took her off his laps easily to go away and return again.

He was a part of her life – past and present. And she didn't want her life to change because of one silly slip.

Why was he so stubborn? It didn't cost him a thing to accept their apologies and stay as if nothing had happened.

A sharp knock at the door only added to her annoyance. Throwing the future dress away from her knees, she sprang up with a firm intention to demonstrate her iciest greeting to an unwelcome guest. However, at the sight of the arrival the words froze in her mouth.

"Milord Haldir?" stuttered she in surprise.

"Milady Aerwain," Haldir put a hand against his heart, bowing low enough to astonish her even more. He wasn't at all like that arrogant elf, who had abandoned their house so hastily yesterday. More strained than angered, he seemed to be preparing for something and couldn't predict the outcome of his venture.

"You… came to Beleg, didn't you?" supposed Aerwain uncertainly, because the guest just kept standing on the threshold, "I'm afraid he's out now."

"I hoped to find both of you at home," the elf cast a quick glance into the room behind her, and Aerwain, having learnt hospitality through bitter experience, immediately responded the silent question.

"Come in, please," she moved aside, but Haldir didn't hasten to seize at the invitation.

"Won't I disturb you?"

"Not a bit," assured him the hostess, "Come in, will you?"

Nodding, the March Warden stepped over the threshold. As soon as he appeared inside, Aerwain felt much better. It looked like yesterday had already been forgotten.

"Did anything happen?" enquired she a little more softly.

"Not today," Haldir lowered his eyes for a moment, as though plucking up his courage, but raised them again almost at once. Something in his face made her hold her breath. She knew him different – calm and sarcastic, restrained and immaculately courteous. But now his figure was emanating something completely new for her. The discomposure, which changed his look, was showing through his pose, the lines of his lips, the deep azure of his glance…

"I wanted to ask your forgiveness, milady Aerwain," said he in undertones at last, "I behaved improperly and I regret it."

Her brows flew up against her will. Forgiveness? _He _behaved improperly? She was taken aback, not finding words for an answer, and Haldir probably interpreted her silence in his own way. His face darkened.

"I thought that it would happen," muttered he, making a step back, "Have a good day, milady. I didn't want to be importunate."

Astonished Aerwain finally regained her voice. He had come to apologize! He had offered to reconcile, and she made him think she rejected it.

"Milord Haldir!" hailed she in a haste. The elf, who had almost left the room, turned back quickly.

"I am sorry, I couldn't understand you at once," for the first time that day she smiled quite sincerely, "Don't leave. I don't think you did anything to apologize for. But if you need it – I forgive you."

The March Warden wavered in the doorway, as if not trusting his ears. Encouraged, Aerwain approached him and, like yesterday, stretched out her hand to touch his shoulder slightly. A smile ghosted across his lips – with care he reached for her fingers, which were still lingering on his tunic, and gave them a gentle squeeze, restoring the peace between them.

"Thank you," replied he quietly.

"I've done nothing to thank me for," she laughed, feeling a load was off her mind, "So will you stay? Or is it better not to detain you?"

"I believe I'll hamper you work?" half-questioningly Haldir looked over the pincushions, reels of silver lace and weightless cuttings of white silk, scattered around the floor and the settees. Aerwain shook her head, sweeping the pieces of thread off the nearest chair.

"No more work for today," she confusedly demonstrated her finger, with the traces of pricks already filled with dark blue colour.

Shrugging his shoulders with an indifferent air, the elf settled in the seat, his back so straight that Aerwain for a moment marveled at how anyone could feel comfortable with a rigid spear instead of a spine.

"Is it a dress?" he nodded at assorted pieces of cloth, hanged all over the room.

"A wedding dress, yes," confirmed she eagerly, may be, too eagerly for such a trifle enquiry. Yes, she had wanted to make peace with him, but now that the matter was settled she started pondering whether she had thought too much of her own forbearance when inviting him to come in.

"For you?" the question was suddenly dry. Slightly confused, Aerwain followed the distasteful glance he cast at her work.

"No, for my friend." muttered she, expecting that he would call it ugly, but nothing like that came.

"Really," the Warden looked down quickly, "You have smart hands. And a light-minded head," added he, pointing at her finger, "You're not using a thimble?"

Aerwain sprinkled with laughter.

"I'm sorry," checked she at the sight of his perplexity, "I just didn't think that of all you'd choose to discuss it."

"Tell me then what you deem it right for me to discuss," he finally leaned back with an elusive smirk.

"Soldiery?" offered Aerwain, for anything else refused to come to her head categorically. Haldir raised one brow.

"Do you know anything about it?"

"Nay," confessed she, "And cannot say I want to."

The smile on his face became more pronounced. Pity it was so indulgent again – too indulgent for her to like it.

Having no idea what else she could speak to him about, Aerwain picked up the first ribbon which caught her eye and set to wind it back into an accurate skein. The first sleave was followed by the second, then another one, till the lace ran out… Desperate about what else to do to smooth away the awkward helplessness she for some reason experienced, she glanced around the room searchingly.

"May I ask you a thing?" the Warden made himself heard unexpectedly.

"Sure," responded she with relief. Thank Eru at least one of them knew what to tell to the other.

"What did I offend you with?"

"I beg your pardon?" she was more than sure that she had misheard him. So sure that she was ready to apologize for her deafness.

"I thought we'd been friends," said he, giving her no help out of the stupor, "Once."

"Once?" echoed Aerwain.

"When you were younger. Why did you stop talking to me then? Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh," she waved her hand nonchalantly, having at last realized that neither her ears nor her mind had failed her, "Don't even remind me of it. It was so silly. I simply liked you so much, and…"

"You don't anymore, right?" Haldir cut in with calmness not corresponding to such a statement.

Aerwain began feeling slightly irritated. It was as though he was purposely leading her into awkward corners. She couldn't understand what motives underlay it, but whatever they were she definitely was against this strategy. Perhaps, he was just still paying back for the yesterday?

"I do," said she with a cool air, looking him in the eyes, "But, agree, I'm already too old to climb onto your laps and hug you."

The remark reached its aim – at least it seemed so. His lips twitched a little as if hiding a grimace – or a grin.

"But may I at least hope?" solicited he mildly.

"For what?" inquired Aerwain suspiciously, for it appeared to her that his intense straightforwardness had given place to a hidden gibe.

"For not being called "milord" so often," said he simply, "I prefer to be just Haldir."

She kept quiet, not wanting to offend him with a refusal. After the years of using formal addresses, the thought of calling him only by the name was slightly blasphemous. As silent, Aerwain tried it on her tongue mentally. Haldir… Haldir…No, it didn't fit.

"It's hard for me," admitted she honestly.

"I'm sorry to hear that," it sounded rather indifferent, so that Aerwain doubted its truthfulness, "Then, perhaps, you'll agree to restore at least one old tradition and take a present I brought you?"

"A present?"

"I don't believe that you still like toys, so," the elf felt over the folds of his cloak and procured something, sparkling slightly in the scant light from the window, "Will you accept this instead?"

Aerwain had barely suppressed a childish gasp. In his hand there was a fine brooch of pleached silver wire and pearls, white like wood-lilies. Not a toy, indeed.

"I got it from the Dwarves during the last mission."

"How… beautiful."

Haldir smiled and, standing up, reached out for her collar as though to clasp the jewel onto her dress. Aerwain moved back a bit.

"It's too expensive," objected she with regret, "I cannot."

"Why?" in his voice there was slight offence.

And really, why? Because she had been brought up in a strict notion that such gifts obliged her to do something? Because she had been told not once that it was not commendable to take jewels from men who were not related to her? Or because she didn't feel like stepping over the two previous creeds?

Haldir kept holding out the brooch, waiting for her decision. She had to confess to herself that there were no arguments to resort to. She couldn't say that to agree was indecent of her – she regarded no smallest chance that the gift meant anything that could deserve the word. And it would be completely ridiculous of her to blush and mince, muttering a prim refusal based on the rules of propriety. She didn't want to make a laughing stock of herself, having supposed that he was going to break these rules.

For a moment Aerwain imagined what Beleg would have said about her hesitation to take a present from Haldir. The idea was unpleasant, but she was still wavering. Suddenly it occurred to her that she might smooth out the one-sidedness of the gift.

"Very well," said she, outpointed by her own reasoning, "I'll take it, but only if you allow me to fetch you something in return. What can I do for you?"

Having pronounced the last part, she tardily grew aware that it was more than a little ambiguous. But probably of them two she was the most spoilt one, because the Warden gave no sign of understanding her in a wrong way.

"I heard many praise your ability to sew. May I hope to receive something you'll tailor yourself?"

"Just tell me what you need," nodded Aerwain. The predicament was obviously solved.

"A tunic. A festal one," replied he without a shadow of ponderings, "I might need it … soon. And I'll pay for the fabric."

"Don't even think about it," she shook her head violently, "Leave it to me. What colour do you want it to be?"

"I trust you to choose it."

"That is settled then," concluded she resolutely.

With a satisfied expression he put forth the brooch again. As soon as he did, the former uneasiness seized Aerwain. She positively didn't know how to stretch out her hand and take it.

"What is it?" asked the elf.

"Everything is fine," reassured she, bracing herself before delivering him from the jewel at last. To cope with her silly dismay, she recalled how she used to thank him for the toys brought, and in a fit of resolve stood on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

The gesture was probably unexpected for him, otherwise he wouldn't have tried to turn his head away the moment her lips were already approaching his face, so that her kiss met the corner of his mouth instead.

He gave a start, jerking his head up – as a result, her lips slid only lower. She herself froze in complete panic.

An age had passed before Aerwain realized that however appalling the happening was, the earth wouldn't open and swallow her whole. Having given a suppressed sigh, she leaned back and attempted to save her dignity by pretending that everything was well.

"Thank… you," rustled she like a strangled mouse.

Haldir was staring at her with strangely fixed, unblinking eyes. Aerwain stepped back a little more. A clumsy goose!

The Warden parted his lips at last.

"You are welcome," deadpanned he in a low voice, "I'd better be going, if you allow me."

Aerwain forced a nod, feeling her face burn from the cheek-bones to the chin. However, when Haldir headed for a door, she found strength to open it for him and even give a pallid smile.

"When should I come to have the measurements taken?" asked he suddenly.

"Next week," she uttered the first thing that happened to have wandered into her head, without thinking whether she would be free for him then or not.

"See you next week then," with that he took himself off.

She had barely restrained herself from shutting the door with a bang and knocking her forehead against it. Instead of that she just leaned against the thin wood, wondering if anyone ever felt comfortable after the March Warden left.


	4. Never talk to friends

**A/n: **_Thank you so much for your reviews and messages. I'm lucky to have such generous readers. :o) Review, please? Thanks again. _

**Chapter 4.**

**Never talk to friends.**

_Now here, now there, the roving Fancy flies,_

_Till some lov'd object strikes her wand'ring eyes,_

_Whose silken fetters all the senses bind,_

_And soft captivity involves the mind._

_Imagination! who can sing thy force?_

_Or who describe the swiftness of thy course?_

- Phillis Wheatley

"Haldir? Lord Haldir gave it to you?"

Aerwain nodded, reclining leisurely against a mallorn trunk, her bare feet splashing in the warm gray water. Gwilwileth turned the brooch upside down and studied the clasp so carefully as if she could read her future on it.

"He has a taste," admitted she at last, "Of course, it's just silver, but…"

"Gwilwileth, please! What would you think he must give me? Mithril?"

The honeyed hair of Gwilwileth drew a golden aureole around her face as she shook her head. Aerwain watched her with a feeling she saw a moving and talking figure of Varda from one of the tapestries which adorned the Lady's house. No wonder the lass was the first from their circle to get married.

Unlike many, she was far from envying Gwilwileth, for the sparkling appearance of the latter was heavily overweighed with much less sweet character. Men found it charmingly capricious, women – cantankerous and peevish. Gwilwileth, herself, ignored both the first and the second, counting out those rare persons, whom she either knew for most of her life, like Aerwain, or couldn't help but deem deserving respect, like her fiancé.

"What did he ask in exchange?" purred Gwilwileth, her thin hand raised so that its owner could freely feast her eyes upon the accurate rosy nails.

"Nothing," grumbled Aerwain. Sometimes that woman positively enraged her.

"Nothing at all? He disappoints me."

"Well, he said he wanted me to sew him a tunic."

"And...?" suggested Gwilwileth invitingly.

"And that's all," Aerwain shrugged her shoulders, avoiding the curious glance of her friend.

"My dear," the blonde laughed her best silvery laughter, "If that had been all, you wouldn't have led me into this Valar-forsaken corner. Come on, there's no one except us. You can confess all your shadiest secrets."

"I nearly kissed him," blurted out Aerwain.

"What?"

Gwilwileth opened her mouth in such an uncharacteristic surprise, that Aerwain felt a little stung. She wasn't that much of a domestic simpleton to arouse astonished gaping by just telling that she'd kissed someone.

Although indignant, she still set off for a long explanation. Gwilwileth was listening carefully, and the slighting air of mistrust was gradually wiped away from her face. But Aerwain had to admit that what came instead was no better. First the scanty audience appeared inquisitive, then amused, and by the epilogue Gwilwileth was tapping her hand against her mouth in a thoughtful manner, which allowed her to conceal rather an obvious smirk.

"Sweet Varda, I though you're speaking about a real kiss!" exclaimed she with a small chuckle, as the story was through, "Next time don't joke like this, my nerves are not so enduring."

"It is not a joke!" rebelled the teller.

"No, it's not," agreed Gwilwileth easily, "It's just one silly misunderstanding."

"But what if he thought-" started Aerwain, not reassured at all.

"It doesn't mean anything," interrupted the interlocutress, "Unless you intended to kiss him. Did you?"

"N-no."

"Then there's nothing in it. Dot," she cast the brooch back to Aerwain, and, clasping her fingers in front of her, stretched herself with a catching suppressed yawn, like a sleepy lynx.

"Poor man, he must have been so-o-o disappointed," remarked she, as Aerwain, too, was restraining from yawning after this manifestation of pure laziness. It wasn't really that late, but the quietude of the nook seemed to be calling for slumber.

"Why?"

"It's obvious, I guess."

Aerwain was getting somewhat tired of these opinionated observations.

"Do enlighten me," begged she mockingly.

"He brought you a jewel. He wants to you to call him by the name. He asks for a festive tunic," Gwilwileth was counting on her fingers, straightening them one by one to make her arguments more illustrative, "He's miffed when you ignore him, and … and he turns his head when he sees it is only his cheek you're kissing," she waved a fully open palm in front of Aerwain's nose, "Hey, deary, wake up! Crop all my hair if he doesn't cherish the idea of courting you."

"Lord Haldir?"

"And why not?" Gwilwileth jerked one shoulder, which signified a lazy intention to shrug both of them, "He had always been … ummm… partial to you."

Without a word Aerwain reached out for the forehead of the blonde.

"What is it?"

"I'm afraid you're in fever. My brother has managed to infect you with his delirium," clarified Aerwain with a fake anxiety.

Uttering a sniff, Gwilwileth dove from under the touch.

"I see not why you don't want to treat Haldir seriously. He's a prey to hunt for, don't you think?"

"I'm not a predator to hunt," replied Aerwain shortly. The approach, Gwilwileth took to others' characters, always grated on her a little.

"Oh, I forgot that you're the sappy one," nodded Gwilwileth, and a dangerous sparkle came into her blue eyes. The deep voice fell almost to a whisper, while she leaned closer to Aerwain, "Then imagine - it's the end of your wedding feast… The torches go out, and it's time for both of you to leave – everyone understands it… As everyone understands why…"

She was enunciating each word quietly but clearly, as if adding strokes of brush to a picture.

"…in twilight he carries you into his house, easily as though you're a feather in his arms. The door behind you closes, leaving you two alone. He embraces you, and you give a start, because his body is strong and fervid against yours, stronger than you could even believe. His hands, his lips…are everywhere…Have you never wondered whether he kisses as good as he looks? Have you never wanted his mouth to-"

"Gwilwileth, I don't like what you're saying," cut in Aerwain, tardily realizing to what her friend could come if not stopped. As for her, she didn't intend to listen it up to the end, but not due to the evident impropriety of the picture Gwilwileth was weaving – it was something they always ended up with. Earlier the dubious hints didn't affect Aerwain. She simply ignored them, knowing that to show she minded being involved into such talks was to be shredded into pieces by the sharp tongue of the uncompromising woman. Up to now Aerwain had been estranging from the matters raised with certain success, each time forcing Gwilwileth to retreat grudgingly, but peacefully. This time, however, the story managed to scratch her. Either it was because her friend had manifested an unusual eloquence, or because there was something about the dusky, clinging haze, hanging over the sleepy lake, that clouded her mind, but her chest became suddenly too cramped for her heart.

"But I didn't finish!" laughed Gwilwileth, "His touch is hot, insistent…He whispers something into your ear, yet you don't need his words. You are already burning as his breath caresses your skin… your neck… your-"

"Gwilwileth!" shouted Aerwain at the top of her voice. She was trembling hard, not even trying to even out her breath anymore. All her feelings revolted against the imagination, which kept embodying the words it heard.

And they rebelled more violent against her, because she couldn't help being fascinated by it.

Varda, to what stupidity she was bringing herself.

"There, there," contrary to the expectations, Gwilwileth herself seemed scared with the effect of her chaff, "I am sorry. I didn't know you'd react this way."

"I don't even want to think about it," Aerwain turned away, her throat unable to let through a sip of air.

"Well, forgive me," the blonde was attempting to catch her glance insistently, "Will you? You can even call me a shrew, just don't pout!"

"Let's forget it."

Gwilwileth nodded her head eagerly, and squeezed Aerwain's hand, not letting it go till she received a weak stir of fingers in return.

For some time they were sitting in silence, sharply feeling the strain that had hung between them for the first time in so many years.

"Wouldn't mind swimming a little, since we came here," said Gwilwileth at last, raising up, "And you?"

Aerwain wrinkled her nose in scorn.

"Too much fuss with dressing up and drying," muttered she. She didn't add that she had no slightest desire to take off her clothes, because her skin still prickled uncomfortably after the waves of biting heat had ceased flowing through it.

Gwilwileth smirked an understanding smirk.

"Prude," teased she almost blandly.

"Shrew," retorted Aerwain, feigning a frown.

"I'm mute!" Gwilwileth gave up quickly, and reached out for her silken scarf. Looking at the calm water, Aerwain unexpectedly discovered a wish to take a plunge, too. May be, it could free her from the afterglow of uneasiness, nestling inside.

She threw off her cloak with resolution. But before her hand had gripped at the ties of the dress, she was stopped stiff by a crackle, which could come only from a branch, broken under someone's foot.

Gwilwileth snapped up her head sharply, and both of them peered into the thicket, from where the sound had been heard.

"And now how will you call me?" asked Aerwain in whispers, elbowing her frozen friend.

"It doesn't matter," hissed Gwilwileth, "It matters how I'll call this rat when it is caught."

However, none of them moved. The forest was quiet and motionless, too.

"Do you see anything?"

Aerwain shook her head slowly.

"Just trees."

"It wasn't a tree, you know!"

Not leaving the thicket out of sight, they brought their clothes in order carefully.

"Home?"

"Home," agreed beetle-browed Gwilwileth.

Leaving the clearing after her friend, Aerwain looked back involuntary. Was there really someone who had spied on them?

Considering what that someone could have heard, she sincerely hoped there was not.


	5. All work and no play

**A/n: **_I appreciate your patience so much, guys. Sorry for making you wait. Life's been tense lately. :) Thank you for the feedback. Here's the next chapter, at last. Read and review, if you care. _

** Chapter 5.**

** All work and no play**

_When your hands go out,_

_love, toward mine,_

_what do they bring me flying?_

_Why did they stop_

_at my mouth, suddenly,_

_why do I recognize them_

_as if then, before,_

_I had touched them,_

_as if before they existed_

_they had passed over_

_my forehead, my waist?_

-Pablo Neruda

"Aerwain!"

Aerwain tore herself off the book, which occupied her for the last two days. The sound had come from the outside and, as well as she knew her brother, only he was capable of such yells.

"Aerwain!"

"I wonder why don't you try and shout a little louder," remarked she, leaning over the windowsill, "You don't sound like a wounded Oliphant yet."

"As if you heard one," grinned her brother.

"I heard you," retorted she, "That is worse."

"You deal with Gwilwileth too much," noted Beleg with sham deprecation. Aerwain merely shrugged her shoulders.

"Did you want anything particular, brother, or can I come back to what I was doing?"

"And what were you doing?"

"Nothing," laughed she, proudly demonstrating a book in her hand.

"Oh, that's what I call a decent occupation," approved Beleg, "Listen, I've met Haldir here. I didn't quite understand… he asked something about a tunic. Said you'd settled for the last week, but you didn't call him, and he didn't want to thrust himself upon you. What?"

The sound, with which Aerwain hit her forehead against the jamb of the window, was quite scary.

"It's just that our parents gave me a cabbage instead of a head," muttered she angrily, "Nothing out of ordinary."

"What?"

"Nothing," waved off she, "If you see him again, tell him he can come any minute. I'm free now."

"All right!" nodded Beleg somewhat too brightly, as it seemed to her. A moment later - she didn't even manage to read at least one more page - Aerwain understood that her suspicions had a solid ground. Someone knocked at the door energetically, jerking her out of the daydreaming again. She threw the book off and stood up with an angry sniff.

"What's happened?" inquired she grudgingly as Beleg appeared at the threshold.

"Nothing. I've brought you a guest," announced he, moving aside to let in another elf - a taller and an older one.

"Good morning, lord Haldir," Aerwain breathed out in a dismal voice. To say that she was really disappointed was to say nothing at all. She didn't expect that she'd have to relinquish the blissful idleness so soon.

Haldir nodded and came in, following the inviting gesture she had managed to squeeze out.

"Didn't quite understand, did you?" hissed she, as Beleg was passing by. The elf just smiled a sly smile and flopped into her own rightful chair in a pointedly careless manner.

With a suppressed sign Aerwain marched to her room to fetch her working basket and growl a little while no one could hear it. The wall-mirror showed her a sour face, which could scare off a bunch of balrogs.

"Rare beauty," commented she in satisfaction, and glued a mien of a benevolent hostess over the sinister sight she really was.

Haldir was standing where she had left him, in the same pose and with a temporizing look. He hadn't even bothered to prepare himself for the toil. On the other hand, such things were toil only for her…

"I cannot take the measurements, if you don't take off this tunic," she hoped she didn't sound too ungracious.

His serenity undisturbed, the Warden unfastened the broad belt and pulled off the tunic of soft gray flax. Aerwain took both out of his hands, turning serious as each time a new garment was about to be started. May be, this time it would be harder than ever. Nothing was easy with lord Haldir involved in it. As far as she remembered, his clothing was always impeccable. Would she be able to satisfy a taste as captious?

Pity he was so much taller than she was. That meant that she'd have to stand on her tiptoes to get half of the necessary measurements. The idea irritated her a bit, for it added another stroke to the image of a little girl, romping about her older brother's friend – the latter enjoying a chance to demonstrate his endurance and civility.

And those broad shoulders will be something to take a lot of trouble over, too, thought Aerwain with a small grimace of concentration, as her eyes were skimming over the stately elf.

"Lift your hair a little," ordered she, picking up a skein of white woolen string. The Warden carried out the request without any delay or remark. Thankful that he had chosen to be that submissive, Aerwain wound a piece of the thread around his neck and pulled it tighter to define the boundaries of the future collar.

"Don't move, Haldir," warned Beleg from his corner, "Who knows what to expect from her?"

"I hope for milady's mercy," replied Haldir with a slight indifferent smile, "She won't hurt an unarmed one."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Beleg clacked his tongue, seeing Aerwain's brows knit, as she threw him a sidelong glare.

"Don't you, yourself, need a tunic, brother?" sang she in a sweet voice, stretching the string in her hands threateningly.

"No, I still like my life, darling," retorted her brother, "Although your friend does marry another elf."

Aerwain produced a short laugh. The jokes about the undying love for Gwilwileth were as traditional with Beleg, as those about the tender feelings between her and Haldir.

"You're too aged for her, my poor Beleg," she shrugged her shoulders again, her eyes narrowed at the piece of coal she used for putting the marks. It was crumpling foully and was obviously intending to clutter under her nails in black unattractive stripes, "Resign."

"Have you heard it, Haldir?" reacted Beleg immediately, "She's just called you a decrepit elder."

"Beleg!" for a second Aerwain lost her gift of speech. Haldir lifted the corners of his lips in another smile, this time somewhat strained.

"That would be vexing, indeed," remarked he more politely than jokingly.

Aerwain cut the marked bit off the skein and reeled off some more, her cheeks red with indignation. However, Beleg wisely restrained from elaborating on the subject, as his attention was diverted with her orphaned and forgotten book.

"I hope I'm not burdening you, milady," said Haldir, when the silence became friendly enough, "You've finished the wedding dress, haven't you?"

Aerwain nodded, busy over an ellwand.

"I had to. The ceremony is in a week."

"I know. I was invited."

"Were you?" echoed Aerwain absent-mindedly, scribbling the inches on a scrap of parchment. She wasn't very inclined to speak when working.

"Milady Aerwain…"

"Mmm?"

"You know that Beleg leaves tomorrow and can't be at the wedding," Haldir spoke slowly, seemingly choosing the words, "I'm worried about you being there on your own. Will you allow me to accompany you?"

"But I'm not going to be alone," objected she, her brows raised in surprise. To her mind, a wedding feast was the last of the events, which called for loneliness.

However, both of them were probably doomed to interpret each other's words in the wrong way. The Warden averted his eyes to the window, a shadow passing across his face.

"Oh," uttered he lukewarmly, "I'm sorry. I should have thought that you'd already arranged for it."

"But I didn't-,"

She cut off, having suddenly remembered, that she had settled for it with Tarlangion, the only brother of Gwilwileth…Although it was hard to call an actual arrangement. They spoke about it once, in jest. Or may be not once, but at better consideration she had to admit that they'd never arrived to a more or less definite decision. Tarlangion was a male ringer of Gwilwileth, and that meant that nothing of what he said was to be treated seriously. So Aerwain never did treat it that way. She merely enjoyed his company and his ever-nonchalant intonations. Even the caustic sparkle, that often came to his eyes, didn't grate upon her. His was an ideal attendant to spend a careless evening with, or perhaps, to make it go a smidge further than one single evening…

And Haldir?

The words "Haldir" and "careless" just refused to line up in one phrase. She didn't need a father to nurse her there and a kill-joy to watch every step she would make.

But what if there was no choice? Tarlangion was out of Lorien. And even if he were here, it would be in the least strange to approach him with: "Tarlan, remind me if we are going at your sister's wedding together?" Whether it was so or not, it would sound like she's forcing herself on him.

On the other hand, she could refuse Haldir under the pretext he himself had invented. But how will she explain it when he sees her at the wedding alone?

"-I didn't have any arrangements," finished she in indecision.

"May I escort you, then?" if she were forced to judge by his tone, she'd say that he wasn't enthusiastic about it, either. Strange than he gave himself the trouble of asking at all. That was probably due to the overly-sharp call of duty, he had developed throughout the years of serving as a Warden. A feeling of being responsible for everything and everyone.

"Why not?" replied Aerwain against herself. The Warden gave a slight nod, letting her know that there was no way back.

The next piece of the thread she just clenched between her teeth – not to make any other precipitate promises. The nasty flack of wool in her mouth helped to distract from pangs of repentance that crept in as she imagined how Tarlangion would regard the whole thing in case he'd by some chance been serious with his invitation.

"Let me hold it," offered Haldir suddenly, raising his hand to deliver her from the string.

"Stnd stll," babbled she incoherently. The elf obeyed, falling silent again.

Beleg was quiet, too, having, perhaps, decided, that there was enough of quick-wittedness for the day. The only sound that still spoke of his presence was an occasional rustle of turning pages. It allowed Aerwain to finish with the Warden's shoulders and forearms in relative peace.

The string embraced his wide chest – oblivious to her former uneasiness, she almost folded her arms around Haldir to leave the mark needed.

She caught herself on the thought that she liked to touch him. His bare skin retained some traces of tan, which he couldn't have possible received in the shady depths of Lothlorien. Someway she always believed that a person as cool-blooded as he should have as cold a body, but his chest was warm – warm and pleasant to brush her fingertips against. Aerwain found out that she was looking for a chance to prolong the contact intentionally even when the common procedure of taking the measurements didn't call for it. And each time it echoed in her fingers with light prickling, which instigated her to probe further and further on.

A white tail broke loose from her grasp, and she covered the escaping end with her palm right when it was sliding down the Warden's abdomen. Haldir drew in the stomach, making a short inhale.

"I am sorry," she withdrew the hand quickly.

"It was of no trouble," objected the Warden. His tone was soft, but Aerwain's keen ear discerned some unfamiliar notes surging from under the surface of usual cool restraint. The sounds were heavier, deeper, or, may be, more abrupt.

"You don't mind if I leave you, Aerwain?" Beleg's voice broke in the ensued pause, "Need to change my clothes for the evening patrol."

Her heart missed a bit involuntary. Although Beleg had done enough to drive her out of her wits today, she had an urgent need in him here. She wasn't one of those canting hypocrites who fainted at the though of being alone with a man, and yet now she already regretted that she hadn't taken pains to deserve such a reputation. Otherwise it would have been easy to explain why it didn't smile upon her to stay face to face with Haldir … and the warmth that flowed through her body each time she laid her hands on him.

"Sure," she forced out pitifully, "Go."

Her brother nodded and vanished behind the door to his room, closing it with pointed carefulness. Aerwain imitated a resemblance of a smile. A lame one. Twice she braced herself to continue, and twice her resolve melted as soon as she pictured herself touching the Warden again. Without Beleg, the procedure took a shrill tinge of intimacy. Or was it she who thought too much of it all?

"If it disturbs you, we may wait until he returns," offered Haldir calmly. Aerwain shook off the stupor and much to her annoyance discovered that, while hesitating, she had reeled half of the skein on her own palm.

"Why should it disturb me?" the self-protection made her harsh, "You don't think it's the first time I do it?"

The Warden's face turned stony.

"No," replied he dryly, "No, I don't."

Irritated and at the same time oddly remorseful, she wrapped the string around his waist. Contrary to her boastful statement that the rite didn't bother her, she, herself, was not as sure of that anymore. The ticklish sensations in her fingers increased, and she became somewhat persistently reluctant to meet his glance, contenting herself with peering steadily at her own hands. Fortunately, they knew what they were doing, and didn't even considered trembling, when she had to bend lower and almost lean her forehead against his chest to draw the marking on the thread, and not on him. The touch was avoided, but her hair, which she practically never braided, still made a full journey first up, then down his exposed torso.

And again it seemed to her that he flinched, his breath getting out of the soundless, calm tune. She tossed her head up questioningly and had to give a start. His mouth was pressed tightly, and the irises shone with such deep blue that it was almost painful to look at them.

For a moment Aerwain craved for seeing him smile indulgently, like he always smiled when she was little and distracted him from the talks with other grown-ups, jerking the rim of his tunic with quite a maddening obstinacy. But however hard she tried, she found no traces of that well-acquainted and longed-for expression.

The daylight trickling from the window now appeared dimmer, as though it was dusking already. All of a sudden the talk with Gwilwileth floated out of her memory, gaining new facets. She cuttingly clear imagined a dark room, the subdued sounds of wedding songs wafting from the outside, and the firm, desirous lips, capturing hers…

Aerwain almost shrank back from the Warden – so vivid the picture was. With an incredible will-effort she still compelled herself to remain where she was. It was just insanity. A trick of imagination. In that minute she could swear she hated Gwilwileth and her beguiling tongue.

She was obliged to take herself in hand before Haldir thought Valar knows what of her. It was simply a must to say or do something that would erase the aftertaste of the illusion and persuade him that between them everything was as it had been … That she had never wanted it to be different.

There was a coaly stain on his collar-bone, she must have carelessly left while making the first mark. Unconsciously, only to fill the onerous stiffness with some motion, Aerwain reached out to wipe it away.

"I'm so awkward," murmured she apologetically, running her palm against the toughish line of his neck.

"It is of no trouble," repeated Haldir in a husky undertone. His hand went up to intercept hers as she conquered the stain and was moving back gingerly, "Aerwain, may I ask-"

"Lord Haldir? Aerwain?

Oh, Varda. That was the last straw. Aerwain whipped around swiftly to meet the surprised and indignant glance of her mother, who was standing frozen in the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" asked the older elleth, her tone cold and accusing.

"Taking the measurements, mother," Beleg appeared to have grown out of the floor.

"Oh, Beleg, you're here, too," the respectable lady was obviously relieved. After a quick examination of the ellwand and the waste ends of the string, she allowed herself to smile at last.

"Have you finished with it?"

"I have, mother" confirmed Aerwain hastily, "Thank you, lord Haldir. That would be all."

The Warden leaned over the settee to pick up his tunic. In a moment it was already hard to believe he had taken it off at all.

"Thank _you_, milady Aerwain," bowed he shortly.

"May be, you'll stay, Haldir?" Aerwain's mother decided to temper justice with mercy, "Berenon is to be back very soon."

"No, I've taken too much of their time already," interrupted Haldir with cool firmness, "Good bye."

Aerwain didn't raise her head to bid him fare-well not to let anyone see her burning cheeks and bitten lips. And only as she was throwing the things back into her basket, an understanding came that it was probably wrong to set him free so eagerly.

The work was not completed, anyway.

She didn't write down that accursed last measurement.


	6. Hide and seek

**_A/n: _**_Well, guys, it was my birthday yesterday, and the whole week before I'd been pampering myself with occasional moments of laziness, which resulted in the new chapter. Thank you very much for the reviews. I could never resist "pretty please"s and "cherries on top", so enjoy the update. And I really hope you won't kill me for the little twist. (smirks) A little feedback, pleeeeeaaasee! _

**Chapter 6.**

**Hide-and-seek.**

_Of all the torments, all the cares,_

_With which our lives are curst;_

_Of all the plagues a lover bares,_

_Sure, rivals are the worst._

William Walsh

"Thank you," smiled Aerwain, as a luxurious wreath of lilies crowned her head. Haldir stepped back a little, inspecting the results of his effort captiously. He had chosen the wreath not asking her advice, but to her surprise, it couldn't have pleased her taste more even if she had picked it out herself.

"Does it suit me?" enquired she, tucking an unruly strand behind her ear.

"I hope Arvrog won't take you for his bride," said the Warden instead of an answer. Aerwain nearly raised her brows at the phrase, too unlike anything that she ever heard him utter.

"It's not likely," she looked back at the now married couple. The bridegroom – tall and proud - wound his arms around his lady in a half-protective, half-passionate embrace. Gwilwileth leaned against him eagerly, and even from the distance it was possible to read content and triumph in the glances, she was sending him from under the dark drooping eye-lashes.

Aerwain turned away with a cozy feeling of satisfaction. It was a perfect wedding.

Contrary to her expectations, the evening with Haldir turned out quite agreeable. In fact, she'd rather call it pleasant. He didn't discard his reserve, but softened it considerably, so that it almost began to suit him. She had to admit that it gave him the irrefutable advantage over most of the flippant young men around.

He was a thoughtful attendant – willing to lend a hand when it was necessary and not importunate when she preferred to pay attention to something or someone else. Then he seemed to be vanishing into thin air to appear nearby whenever she manifested a slightest sign of being in need of him. Only once she caught sight of him, while dancing with another guest. He was standing in the shade, at the fringe of the clearing, his back against the tree, and watching her carefully. Their glances met over the shoulder of her partner. Aerwain felt her heart warm up strangely, and a smile blossomed on her lips for no obvious reason. When the dance brought them face-to-face again, she saw he was smiling, too, some elusive traces of mildness lurking in the corners of his mouth.

No matter how much she loved feasts, little by little she began to get tired of the bustle around. Excusing herself from another dance, Aerwain joined the Warden, who was still keeping afar from the heart of the celebration.

"Would you care for a walk?" whispered he, giving her elbow a light touch.

"That would be wonderful," confessed she gratefully and put her hand into the proffered palm. They slipped between the dancing and daffing couples to dive into the welcoming embrace of the wood.

The task of finding the quiet spot appeared almost hopeless, but at last, the noises began to fade. At some moment Aerwain realized that they had changed their roles somehow. Instead of being guided by Haldir, she was leading him ahead, as if she had a clear picture of where they were going, after all.

Although the spot where they finally stopped was not that bad. Only now Aerwain understood, how tired her eyes really were of the yellowish light of lanterns and torches, and how welcome were the moon-beams, stealing their way through the thick mallorn foliage and fondling the silvery grass.

One of the branches was arching over the small glade so willingly, that someone hanged a swing over it. Perhaps, it was the same person, who left the place only a minute ago and the presence of whom was still traceable by the way the swing rocked to and fro slightly as if still amusing its owner.

Aerwain concluded that whoever had gone away from here, would not likely to be back soon, so she could occupy the seat freely.

With a sigh of satisfaction she nestled on the polished bench between the ropes. Haldir stood near, upright and broad-shouldered, like a shield between her and the outer world.

"Shall I sway it a little?" he took at the rope an inch lower than her hand, which was resting on it leisurely. Aerwain nodded with an appreciative smile.

"I don't remember if I ever impelled you to do this earlier," said she, unconsciously playful.

"Even if you did not, we still have a chance to repair this omission," the Warden shrugged one shoulder and pushed the swing – so abruptly, that she caught at his forearm not to tumble with her nose forward.

"Not so hard!" pleaded she, balancing on the bench awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," apologized Haldir shortly. Aerwain shot him a deprecative glance, which, however, was totally feigned. Judging by the indifferent air, with which the Warden met it, he realized that.

For some time both of them abstained from speaking. The even rocking of the swing gradually lulled Aerwain into dreamy distraction. It felt like being in a cradle, she pondered lazily.

The lilies exhaled heady, darkish scent, refusing to comply with their innocent look. One of the flowers was on the verge of slipping out of her hair, and she released it from the wreath herself, once again vaguely remarking that Haldir must have known her really good to make such an accurate choice. Though it wasn't surprising, after all those years…

"Haldir, how old are you?" a question had broken out before she even thought of pronouncing it.

"Older than you, … Aerwain," he hesitated slightly before saying her name, and she realized that for the first time in many years she omitted the title "lord", which had glued to his name for her long ago. However, the evening was so dizzy, and faintly glittering fog, creeping onto the glade, so enchanting… She decided to disregard the formalities. Besides, he didn't appear to mind it, either.

"That I understand," agreed she, "But there is some definite age, isn't there?"

Haldir bent his head in assent, a small chuckle playing on his lips.

"So you're younger than father, but Beleg is your junior," muttered Aerwain pensively, "Therefore, you are…"

Just as she expected, he didn't catch up the inviting pause.

"Therefore you are secretive," concluded she with disappointment.

"If you say so."

Aerwain bit her lower lip, frowning till a thoughtful wrinkle showed itself between her brows. Now she was already seriously curious.

"It's strange…" mused she out loud.

"What is strange, Aerwain?"

"I tried to recall what I know about you," explained she, raising her eyes at him, "It's seems not much. I cannot even say where you live."

"If you desire, I'll show you. Someday."

"It is not an answer," Aerwain reproached him. His obstinacy to say something definite began to entertain her.

"That wasn't a question," parried Haldir at once.

Aerwain narrowed her eyes. May be, she just took at the wrong end of this tangle?

"How came you befriended my father?" ventured she again.

"Rumil introduced us," it looked like the interrogation amused the Warden, "Your father trained him."

"And Beleg?"

"And Beleg was trained by me," replied he patiently.

"Are you always so concise?" asked Aerwain with a fair amount of irony.

"Does it bother you?"

She looked down, on her hands, still fingering the lily. Did it bother her? Perhaps. He didn't allow her to settle on some definite attitude towards him. One minute he seemed close and readable, then unexpectedly turned estranged again. Although she lied to herself – he was never comprehensible enough. It was just that from time to time she gave up on it and accepted him the way he was, because it pleased her. Unfortunately, such moments were rare.

She had to do something with the flower before it became completely shredded. Was it better to clasp it to her dress?

Carefully, not to impair her look, she pulled one of the pins out of the gauzy shawl, which was embracing her shoulders. A sudden idea crossed her mind…

Instead of pinning the flower to her own chest, Aerwain raised herself up a little and attached the lily against Haldir's tunic, right over his heart. He studied the new detail of his suit in surprise that made him almost funny.

"I hope Gwilwileth won't take you for her bridegroom," commented she softly, reaching out to adjust the flower more carefully.

"Do not be worried," his tone was matching hers, "I'm able to put up a decent resistance."

All of a sudden the branches stirred and split aside, letting in dishevelled Gwilwileth. The bride was breathing heavily, as though she had just run a considerable distance.

"Here you are," exclaimed she merrily, "We are playing hide-and-seek there. Will you join?"

Aerwain turned to look at her attendant helplessly. She wasn't inclined to go anywhere at all, but to offend Gwilwileth wasn't a part of her plan, either. Therefore, she pinned high hopes in his shrewdness as of her mood. Sadly, he didn't see her. The mantle of unconstraint slipped down from him, as if it never existed at all. He grew straighter and sterner.

Sighing inwardly, Aerwain drew an eager grimace on her face.

"Who hides?" asked she a bit forcedly.

"Everyone!" with a broad gesture Gwilwileth outlined the whole Lorien, "And everyone seeks. Come on!"

"Lord Haldir?" Aerwain muttered weakly, still hoping he would save her out of the "amusement".

He shook his head and let go the rope of the swing.

"No, thank you, milady. Enjoy yourself."

"I bet lord Haldir is just afraid he won't find you," Gwilwileth smiled slyly. Haldir measured her with a heavy glance. Aerwain wondered what her friend had done to him. He seemed to be mastering himself with certain difficulty. Even his nostrils broadened like of the smouldering, barely suppressed discontent.

"I won't look for lady Aerwain before she wants it herself," enunciated he slowly, "But if I will…"

His boastful self-confidence prickled Aerwain. Did he really think she was so easy to get?

"Find me," the spirit of contradiction moved her tongue, but this time she agreed with it completely.

"Yes, find her," Gwilwileth caught up, "And if you do, ask what you want!"

The friends burst out laughing and, clasping hands, sprinkled into the thicket. For some time they were dodging about the trees together, then Gwilwileth unclenched her grip and moved aside.

"It would be easier to trace us both," hissed she.

Aerwain nodded on the run. Strange that it hadn't occurred to her earlier.

Left alone, she hesitated for some time and then headed swiftly in the direction, from which the sounds of the celebration were drifting. It was unlikely that someone would hide so close to an open space. Consequently, it was unlikely that someone would seek her there.

A sole elf was sitting under a mossy trunk a hundred of yards from the lit up and noisy clearing. She ignored him, for it was not Haldir, which meant she could be quite calm on his part.

That is why it made her flinch violently, when he suddenly made himself heard from behind her back.

"Now you even fail to recognize me," the voice was painfully familiar, "Heartless, nothing to say."

Aerwain slapped her forehead inwardly. It was really unforgivable to be so inattentive.

"Welcome back, Tarlan," greeted she with a warm smile.

Tall, lithe and clean-limbed Tarlangion had hardly broken less hearts than his sister. With only difference that Gwilwileth viewed each new unlucky fellow with triumph and undisguised sneer. As for Tarlangion, whenever another victim of his charms lost her mind, he looked so sincerely astonished and even doleful that almost no one ever ventured to blame him for that. Although everyone had solid reasons to suspect that his regretful air was no more than a shameless parade.

From time to time Aerwain wondered how she had managed to evade the trap he was. Probably, that was because she had been too close to his family to be deceived by the alluring colours of a stingy bee.

Once or twice puzzled Tarlangion tried to turn her head off, but, having run against the wall of polite chaff on her part and of bland mockery on the part of his own little sister, held it better to stay within the limits of friendship.

However, it didn't mean that Aerwain never thought of letting him closer. Truth be told, now that he had left his attempts to wound her, he seemed worth it.

At least, he had seemed.

"Hello, little liar," with light pace Tarlangion approached to place a soft kiss on her cheek, "You've had a good laugh on me, haven't you? Left me all alone and waning."

"You didn't invite me," lied she uncertainly, hoping that she wasn't too red. Fortunately, the annoyed sound he produced told her that she chose the right way of defense.

"I didn't," confessed he guiltily, "Will you forgive my conceit?"

"I will," reassured Aerwain with a smirk, "But only because I wasn't bored."

"I saw that."

Something in his tone surprised her. It was uncharacteristically grim of such a nonchalant person… and for such a thoughtless talk. Perhaps, the misunderstanding had still stung him more than he wanted to demonstrate.

"May I, at least, ask for a dance?" he wanted to know finally, assuming the same ironic attitude.

"I'd love to, but I'm playing hide-and-seek. Your sister dared lord Haldir to find me."

"Well, then he's too late," interrupted Tarlangion with steely resolution, "I've already found you."

Aerwain didn't manage to protest when he carried her along, back to the festive clearing from which she had escaped not so long.

In a swift gesture Tarlangion weaved his arms around her and she had nothing to do, except yielding to the low tune with a barely perceptible tinge of sadness.

A thought floated from nowhere that she'd been dancing a lot today, yet the one for whom it would have been natural to ask for being her partner, never once invited her. She didn't dance with Haldir.

"So why is it Haldir all of a sudden?" whispered Tarlangion into her ear – she gave a start, almost scared that the elf had heard her thoughts, even though it was impossible.

"The watchdog of your parents, may be?" continued he, not getting a respond.

"I wouldn't say so," replied she evasively. The assumption revved her up somehow. She was certain that Haldir was not capable of that. But one never knew…

"Hmm, then I understand why Gwilwileth was so worried when she saw that I'd come without you," concluded the elf, watching the doubts reflect on her face, "I'm already forgotten."

"Tarlan, stop talking nonsense," winced Aerwain. This time the straightforwardness, she had always appreciated in him, was bordering on obtrusiveness. She didn't give him any allowances, which could make him play an abandoned sweetheart.

"Now," he seemed to have understood that he had gone too far with the interrogation, "I don't say anything already."

They kept on dancing in silence.

"See, here's the happy bridegroom," growled Tarlangion suddenly. For some reason he couldn't tolerate the newly-fledged brother-in-law, and Aerwain was almost sure that the aforementioned "some reason" had quite a definite name. Jealousy.

"Aerwain, Tarlangion," the elf nodded, coming closer, "Have you seen my bride around?"

"Married for a couple of hours and you've already lost her?" enquired Tarlangion, his voice oozing with poisoned honey. Aerwain elbowed him under the ribs secretly, yet he didn't even stir.

"Aerwain?" the bridegroom paid no heed to the sideswipe.

"She's playing hide-and-seek with the others," explained she politely. The bridegroom shrugged his shoulders.

"I know, but I didn't think she would be that enthusiastic."

"I'll go and fetch her myself," Tarlangion cut in harshly, "Aerwain, are you coming?"

Aerwain hesitated, but shook her head.

"I'll try to find her where we had met last."

When the bridegroom and Tarlangion scattered in opposite directions, she, herself, left the clearing, too, but didn't go where she had said she would.

Now that the rash of a hide-and-seek race cooled down, she felt uneasy about having abandoned Haldir this way. Besides, it was in the least inconstant to forget about the game as quickly as she did. If Haldir saw her dance there with Tarlangion… It's not that she was scared of that, but she didn't want to feel guilty before him. The things were complicated enough already.

Lost in suchlike meditations, Aerwain wandered off rather far. She understood that, waking up in a misty, Valar-forsaken corner, where it was so quiet that it grated on her ears.

Something rustled behind the wall of high bushes. Aerwain gave a start, her first intention to move back, yet she chastised herself for the silly fear immediately. What could happen to her in the very middle of Lorien, where there was not a single enemy?

To prove herself she wasn't afraid, she crept into the chink between two trees, and nearly gasped at the sight that opened to her gaze. However, the ellon and the elleth, which were the source of the rustle she had detected, were busy with each other to such an extent that they would hardly notice a Balrog stamping along right under their noses, not to say anything of one staggered creature of their kind.

The couple was kissing passionately, man's hands clutched at the chiseled shoulders of his lady. He stood half-turned to Aerwain – all she could discern was his profile. Nevertheless, even that was enough for her to tell who he was. She'd spent too much time with him today to be wrong.

She didn't recognize the young woman at first. What she recognized was the dress. She had sewn it with her own hands, for this very wedding. For her best friend. And now her best friend was melting in the embrace of Haldir, drinking his kiss like besotting wine.

Aerwain shrank back, yet it was too late. Gwilwileth jerked up her head at the small outcry, the watcher had uttered. The large blue eyes, only a moment ago closed in forgetful delight, thrust wide open and flared up with fiery sparkles.

Aerwain, who had suddenly become a disclosed spy, didn't venture to wait till Haldir saw her, too. The only thing she could do was to turn her back to the couple and flee, as though they would care for running her down.

And that was what she did.


	7. Lie revealed

_OK, on with the show. Thank you for your permanent interest in that.__ A separate gratitude to my friend pulvis-sum for poking me to work at this. _

_Review, if you're inclined. _

**Chapter seven.**

**Lie revealed.**

_I did but look and love awhile,_

_...'Twas but for one half-hour;_

_Then to resist I had no will,_

_...And now I have no power._

Thomas Otway

"I see that the wedding was a success," her ever-neat and fresh mother offered her a cheek for a quick kiss, "Have anyone heard of such a thing as my daughter loafing in bed over the midday?"

"I woke up before the dawn," protested Aerwain without much indignation. The teasing of her mother usually didn't call for any answer. Whether she was objected to or agreed with wasn't of importance.

"Really?" the elleth raised her brows, "But when lord Haldir called on an hour ago, you were still sleeping."

Aerwain said nothing, reluctant to allow the older lady to catch her glance. She knew that Haldir had come – she hadn't yet grown so deaf as not to recognize his voice. Only it was not an hour ago. It was much earlier than she heard the Warden greet her parents politely and her mother hail her down with uncertainty. She chose not to respond, even when the sound of familiar steps and the rustle of a silken hem outside forestalled the knocking at her door.

Then, instead of bringing herself to behave reasonably, Aerwain recoiled further into the salutary twilight of her room. Eru forbid her from judging anyone, and she felt that once she faced Haldir, she would have to do it.

She has never been blind. At least, she had thought so. Yes, she had suspected – or rather had been sure – that Gwilwileth was not of those who let their own love for themselves be surpassed by the love for someone else. Her friend was born to be admired, not to admire, and had been persuaded of that since her early childhood. It was not a surprise that after all those years it was her fiancé, and now already her husband, who kissed, and she merely allowed it.

Gwilwileth had done nothing that would be out of her character. And if she cared for Haldir, it was even more natural for her to marry another – not to surrender to the weakness of becoming one of those cooing loving little wives she herself had always mocked at.

But Haldir!? No one would ever imagine that he had any trace of feelings for Gwilwileth. On the contrary, he had not once manifested his total indifference, almost hostility towards the flippant young butterfly she was.

On the other hand, it was impossible to believe that someone like him would follow the object of his affection like a shadow, desperately trying to gain it. Especially if that particular object was so cutting and capricious.

But he could be jealous…And could lose his temper once. The marriage, at which he had craved for being a bridegroom and turned out a guest, was quite a justified reason for it.

Aerwain bit her lower lip. No matter how unpleasant the truth was, she had to admit that she had been fooled. She felt almost an irresistible urge to blush and hide her head in a jug of water in front of her. She must have looked such a numskull, letting to lure herself into that stupid hide-and-seek game, …and taking Haldir's attention to her in all good faith. Considering that she had always needed it about as much as she needed her child's dresses, that was the height of folly.

Although it wasn't half as silly as her allowing it to gnaw at her now.

She composed herself with resolution. If anyone had to blush, let it be Haldir. She wasn't the one who kissed someone else's beloved amidst the wedding feast.

"Darling, mallorn trees do not bear fruit," reminded her mother, seeing her catch up an empty basket and stroll to the door, "Or do you want to find any mushrooms now?"

"Aunt asked me to come up and fetch the fabric for her cloak," Aerwain decided not to precise that it wasn't obligatory to do today. She needed to distract herself, anyway.

"As much as I remember your aunt, a basketful of fabric seems a little redundant," laughed the lady, leaning over her book absent-mindedly. However, her head went up again almost immediately, "And what about Haldir's tunic?"

Aerwain shrugged her shoulders with feigned nonchalance.

"Lord Haldir can wait," said she carelessly.

"Oh, if so," murmured her mother, but Aerwain was already slipping out of the house, not going to prolong the discussion.

However, having placed expectations too high in a couple of hours of a calming conversation ahead, she had to be disappointed bitterly. Instead of her aunt she was met by a flock of risible younger cousins. By the bustle they threw themselves in at her request ("Stop getting underfoot!", "Where's this nasty fabric, anyway?", "Have you looked here? And under the bed?"), Aerwain vaguely guessed that she had torn them away from a particularly interesting pastime. In a twinkling of an eye she was handed a roll of woolen cloth, deafened with continuous giggles, pecked on both cheeks violently and chucked out of the house. As the door was closed shut and the burst of laughter wafted from behind it, Aerwain made out a new, not quite a girlish voice pouring into the birds' chirping of the maidens.

Children!

With a derisive sniff she slipped back on the ground and plodded home, forcing herself to think of the needlework she had loaded herself with.

She hadn't made several steps, when her heart missed a beat at the familiar voice, calling out for her softly.

"_Milady…" _

He stood just a few yards away from her, the gray tunic blending with the coarse tree trunks. Hadn't he hailed her, she would never have said he was there at all.

Didn't he have other affairs except springing up in her way when she wanted it less than anything?

"Aerwain," against all the rules that had ever been established between them, the Warden moved closer swiftly and on his own accord took hold of her hand. Aerwain winced, when the hardened lips touched her skin and lingered willfully, as though he wanted to leave a mark of his kiss on it. It was not characteristic of him, either, and she was inclined to dislike the novelty.

"Good afternoon, milord," she extruded through the lump in her throat. The greeting turned out so cool that she involuntary glanced about, almost waiting for the trees to shrivel and lose their leaves with frost. The Warder raised his eyes at her quickly, and she saw the barely visible wrinkles appear in their corners. Feeling guilty, Aerwain followed the badly turned out salute with a wan smile.

"Allow me to help you," the elf wisely avoided to comment on her intonation and reached out to take a basket from her loosening grasp.

"Thank you," muttered she.

Like it went without saying, he offered her his elbow, so she had nothing to do except linking arms with him, cursing herself for faintheartedness.

They walked silently: he – reducing the long steps to keep up with her slow pace, she – gazing down steadily as though her fate was written on the grass under their feet. Any suitable trace of conversation escaped her with irritating persistence. Her only consolation was that the Warden didn't seem to be especially comfortably, either.

"I didn't think you'd leave without me yesterday," when he broke the tedious quiet at last, Aerwain immediately wished he hadn't.

There was still some small hope that he didn't suspect who had spoilt his private moment with Gwilwileth, and she strongly preferred to laugh the matter off and appear uncivil rather than to betray herself.

"But you hadn't found me and I decided-"

"I had," said he in undertone, so quietly that she barely caught it.

"What?"

"You were with lord Tarlangion," his lips were strangely distorted at name, making it sound like an insult, "I didn't want to ruin your dance."

And then you, milord, were too busy already, thought Aerwain with sudden spite. The hint of reproach in his voice roused all the nervousness and confusion, which have been boiling in her since the moment she retreated from the feast so disgracefully.

"I appreciate your tact," hummed she venomously enough to stop further endeavours into conversation.

His presence stifled her. Whenever she braved a sidelong glance at his face, the Warden turned to look at her, irritatingly sensitive to her attention. Whenever she averted her eyes, the memory showed her the glaring image of his mouth, brought against the red and refined one of Gwilwileth…the light sheen of their tangling hair…

Aerwain sank her nails deep into her palm in a futile attempt to get rid of the sucking ache, coiling inside her like an asp. Now… Now she will reach home and all this will end. Just a little patience…

As if to break another hope of hers, Haldir, who had been walking with such determination that one could think he headed for a battle, all of a sudden stopped still with an exasperated air.

"That is insufferable," he hurled sharply, "You saw that, didn't you?"

There was no more use pretending and even if there was, she wouldn't be able to, anyway.

"I did," admitted Aerwain, staring at him with the challenge, although she couldn't give herself an account of what she dared him to do.

"Aerwain, believe me, it was fortuitous," Haldir clasped her palm rapidly, with ardor she would never expect in him.

"Fortuitous?" echoed she in surprise. Whatever was the right word to describe the happening, the one he chose was not it.

Haldir uttered a suppressed sound of impatience.

"Your friend misunderstood me," insisted he.

"Please…" begged Aerwain sincerely, "I don't want to know anything about it!"

She was chastising herself for having forced him to raise the matter. If she had been a little more reserved…

Only when the truth revealed itself in all its nakedness, she realized that for all that time she had been doubting her own good memory. Did she see what she saw? Was it Haldir, indeed?

Now that he left her no loopholes, she had to accept all that, and to say it simply unsettled her was to err against the real state of things outrageously. For no particular reason she felt stung to the very soul. In vain she tried to convince herself that it was ridiculous to be so revved up - her inner self was whining in inexplicable resentment, demanding to punish everyone who ventured to distress it.

Perhaps, that was a sheer disappointment. She refused to resign herself to his being in the girdle of Gwilwileth. It was a pity to find him so humiliated, after she had paid him so much respect for all those years.

Now the mere touch of his hand, still holding hers in the iron grip, sent the shivers of disgust down her spine.

In a small gleam of reason Aerwain managed to restrain the undue irritation. It was not for her to decide whose choice was right, and who went the forbidden path.

"Please," repeated she much more calmly, "You don't have to justify yourself. I don't blame anything on you."

"Fine if it is so," he smiled, but the smile was sad and tense, more like a grimace, "But I've known you for too long. And you've always been a bad liar."

"Forgive me, but I do not care for it all as much as to lie to you," she cut off, discarding the good form. And again, instead of taking offence at her incivility, he ignored it as if it was deserved.

"Aerwain," his voice fell to deep, suppliant notes, "You are unjust. All I ask is to be listened to."

However, the tenderness of his tone grated on Aerwain's ears no worse than if he had suddenly shouted at her. Did he fawn the same way on Gwilwileth, begging her for that kiss? Well, she definitely wasn't Gwilwileth, for it had no effect upon her, except that it led her into deeper indignation.

"I don't think either of us needs it," replied she haughtily.

A few moments of silence ensued, letting her hear how heavily he was breathing. He seemed getting wrought-up, too, much to her satisfaction.

In spite of the obviously growing agitation he still held himself in hand. The next question was toneless.

"Can we forget that it ever happened?"

"Easily," nodded Aerwain, "It really isn't worth the concern, is it?"

"That's not what I meant," rebelled the Warden huskily.

"I won't tell anyone if that's your trouble. I wouldn't cause harm to Gwilwileth."

He drew in the air, perhaps, for another objection, but mastered himself quickly.

"May I at least see you back home?"

The ill-will didn't quit moving her tongue, while she only marveled how unpleasant she could be.

"The road is common. I cannot prohibit you from going it."

"But I assume you would," retorted he, finally thrown off his equilibrium.

Aerwain jerked up her chin in dark triumph.

"Why would I?"

With that, she turned her back to him and walked forward, leaving him to catch up with her, which he did tacitly. There were no more attempts to compel her either to speak, or to hark to him.

Very soon Aerwain discovered that it upset her more than gladdened. How came that she had been so harsh after she had promised herself to keep away from the matter? He really didn't deserve it. She had no slightest right to treat him that way, especially because she herself was unable to say what on earth had gotten into her.

But the home was a step away, and she couldn't think of anything to mend the impression made.

"I'm sorry that it had to happen," said Haldir quietly as they tarried in front of the closed door, "I valued your friendship."

The phrase fell heavily, like an epitaph. Utterly downcast, Aerwain longed for the answer that would lead them out of the deadlock. But did it make any sense at all? They had never been especially close, so it was absurd to be pathetic and set their heads on restoring the reeling trust … or what else it was supposed to strive for in such situations.

Shame, for she had already begun to find being less formal with him pleasant. And now even the safe official mode of behaviour was not likely to be renewed in its former nonchalance.

So let it better be nothing than this awkwardness.

If the Warden was waiting for the reply, he didn't reveal it with one single gesture. Slowly he returned her the basket, slowly, indifferently leaned over her hand, his lips ghosting against her fingers…

"Will you come in?" the invitation she uttered was unexpected even for herself.

His brows went up for one elusive instant, revealing the sparkle that had come into his stare.

"If you are not against it."

Any other day she would have been grateful for the choice he had offered her generously, but now it only made the decision harder. Ah, well!

Not letting herself alter her mind, Aerwain nodded and pushed the door resolutely before he had managed to open it for her.

The house was suddenly full of elves, or so it seemed at the first sight. At a better look, there were only three of them. Aerwain found nothing surprising in the presence of her mother, but to see _both_ parents at home in such an hour was something out of the ordinary. The third occupant of the chamber was someone no less unexpected. She almost sent a smile to the guest, but swallowed it back immediately, remembering in what way they had parted only the day before.

The eyes of Gwilwileth dug into Aerwain's face like claws, the smouldering excitement in them heralding no good. Although she wasn't the only one whose countenance was more than alarming.

Having frozen half-way into the chamber, Aerwain realized that there must be the gravest reason for the strained lull, hanging in the air... She saw her mother so deathly white only once, when torn and unconscious Beleg was brought by his fellows from another mission of his. And though that time the sorrow bypassed their house, the whole family seemed to have grown older by centuries then.

Aerwain had a nauseating sensation of having returned into that day. Just like then, her mother was crumpling a kerchief in the pale fingers, her chest heaving with difficulty and her stare fixed and unseeing. Father's hands were clenched so tightly that the knuckles threatened to cut their way through the skin.

The first qualm of perplexity was altered with blank consternation. The horrible guess flashed in her head. Blood rushed back from her face, following the heart, which was already floating somewhere near the stomach and wasn't going to stay there for too long. Aerwain felt she couldn't stand on her own properly, but before she even thought of swaying, a strong arm weaved around her shoulders, giving her the support she lacked.

"Something with Beleg?" she didn't hear her own question – perhaps, she hadn't really pronounced it.

She expected anything. Anything, except what really came.

As if roused by the inaudible order, Gwilwileth drew up, throwing herself towards Aerwain.

"How could you, Aerwain!" the outcry was jingling and shrill. Aerwain gave a start, bewildered at such a violent greeting.

"But, Gwilwileth…"

"Don't even try to deny it! I saw you and - you," she pointed at Haldir with a shaky finger, "How could you fall as low as that?!"

"Gwilwileth, what are you talking about?" whispered Aerwain, growing cold with ill premonition.

"You know what I'm talking about very well," hissed Gwilwileth, as if her righteous anger expressed itself, "Do not pretend you haven't done it!"

"I'm so sorry," continued she, now addressing to Aerwain's parents, "Can I ever redeem it? I should have seen it coming, I was the closest to her!"

Her exclamations were ringing with such sincere remorse, that Aerwain herself would believe them. If they didn't mean the death of hers…

"Thank you, Gwilwileth," Berenon broke in the middle of the pathetic speech coldly, "You are a good girl. Don't think it rude if I ask you to leave now. It is a family talk."

"Of course," nodded Gwilwileth with eagerness, "If you ever need anything-"

She didn't finish, seemingly at a loss for words, and with a short, abrupt curtsey hastened to take herself away from the house. She was in a hurry, but the hurry not as desperate as to prevent her from lingering face to face with her thunderstruck friend just for an instant. Aerwain regretted sourly that her parents didn't see the smirk of scorn which shadowed the innocent face of their agiler. _Wiggle out, if you can,_ it said.

"I'm ashamed that you are my friend," blurted out Gwilwileth in the same tearful, affected manner…

…the door slapped like hungry jaws.

Aerwain brought a palm against her neck in a frightful loss of air. It was a nightmare. A bad dream. She shouldn't have stayed so long at the wedding yesterday. She should have thought of it too much. She shouldn't have…

"What do you have to say, daughter?" asked her father on a note of frosty curiosity.

"It's ridiculous," muttered she through the numb lips, "You do not believe her, do you?"

"Why would anyone tell such a falsehood?"

"Do not speak to this brazen liar!" her mother gained voice at last to join in the choir of accusations, "What disgrace, Berenon! What disgrace… And this is our Aerwain…"

She sobbed despairingly, pressing the kerchief against her mouth.

"I AM your Aerwain and I haven't done anything!" Aerwain was on the verge of tears, too – but, unlike her mother, she'd rather cry of anger, not of distress. She darted forward to the weeping elleth and gave a start of surprise and relief at finding out that she was still held by another accused, carefully yet firmly enough not to let her make sharp movements.

"Haldir!" she whirled to him like a humming-top, gripping at the tunic on his chest, "You know it's not true. Tell them!"

The Warden cast her a limpid look, but it seemed that he didn't see what or who was in front of him. There was something in his expression that flung Aerwain away from him. It unexpectedly dawned upon her that if he'd cared for objecting, he would have done it long ago. A chain of fleeting, pent-up emotions flashed by in his eyes, one changing into another quicker than Aerwain could discern them properly: dismay, apprehension, resignation …resolve. She was eager to swear that before he tossed up his head brusquely, depriving her of the chance to read the train of his thought, the determination was followed by acute rue, as if he was apologizing for something.

"Haldir?"

Still not granting staggering Aerwain with a single word, he moved her aside gently and stepped between her and her parents.

"I present to you my deepest apologies," he spoke blankly, like someone reciting a dull poem, "Lady Aerwain has nothing to be accused of. I induced her to this. The fault is all mine."

The gasp stuck in Aerwain's throat.

"Wh-"

"And if you allow, I ask for her hand in marriage," ended the Warden, thoughtless of the feeble protest she had practically squeaked out.

Berenon studied his former friend through the narrowed eye-lids. Eru knew what thoughts passed in his head, but when he made a final resolve, his verdict sounded with inexplicable content.

"It's the least you can do," agreed he calmly, "The wedding is in a month. And we'll say you've planned it."

"As you wish, milord," Haldir nodded a dignified assent, as though his proposal was a well-considered matter, settled between the counterparts long ago.

"Aerwain, have you heard that?" Berenon turned to his daughter.

She had heard that. Yet that wasn't something that occupied her at the moment. Pallid and dizzy, she had already stopped trying to fight the common insanity around her, concentrating her ire on the one whom she deemed the reason of all that.

"Y-you…" stuttered she. The wide shoulders of the Warden flinched, as if she stabbed a knife in his back. Oh, if only. She'd drive it in so deep that no one would be able to fetch it out.

"You…" repeated she as he looked back at her, his features a mask of stone and ice.

The right word came easily. It would be much harder to search for other epithets to choose from.

"Traitor," Aerwain spat out distinctly into the odious serene face of her named fiancé.

She was not the first girl who slammed the door into her room so loudly that the ceiling threatened to cave in. But she was definitely the first who really wished it had.


	8. Blandishments

_Thank you for not leaving this. Your reviews are of a great support. __Hope you like this piece. _

**Chapter 8.**

**Blandishments. **

_Fair is my love, and cruel as she's fair:_

_  
Her brow shades frowns although her eyes are sunny,_

_  
Her smiles are lightning though her pride despair,_

_  
And her disdains are gall, her favours honey;_

- Samuel Daniel

Drop… Drop…Dropdropdrop.

The room was dark. Dark and humid, the air drifting in rain-sodden. From where she was, she could see the large leaves peek into her window, bathing in white fire of the moonbeams. The beads of moisture were too heavy even for such dense foliage – now and then, when the wind signed softly in the branches, they slipped down and fell onto the windowsill with resonant complaints.

Drop… Drop…

"Aerwain, you cannot lie like this forever…"

Drop…

"Why not?" wondered she blankly and distinctly.

"Love," a caressing hand skimmed against her forehead, "It's been three days since I returned and you haven't even thought of standing up."

"Is it the only thing that surprised you?"

She didn't bother to speak ironically. The question was toneless, for the felt she lacked strength for any feelings. And why would she need to feel anything?

"Sunshine," Beleg seated himself on the edge of her bed carefully and cupped her face, forcing her to look him in the eyes. There was desperation in them. "Darling, the heart of mine, please! Do not scare me. What do you punish me for? I wasn't even here."

"Beleg, I'm unwell," Aerwain moved from under his palms.

"You are making yourself unwell!" exploded he, jumping up to his feet and setting to a nervous pace from one corner of the room to another. She watched him listlessly, quite indifferent to the blend of self-curses and agitated exclamations he was muttering under his nose. Finally, the outbreak was exhausted, and he dropped himself back to the bed-foot.

"The engagement ceremony is in two days," said he matter-of-factly.

"There won't be any ceremony," tired as she was, Aerwain still raised her voice, although she knew it was useless. It wasn't Beleg she had to confront.

"Oh, there will," chuckled he without any mirth, "Mother has invited everyone to it already. Every single relative she could think of."

A hint at irritation overturned inside her, making her rise on her elbows and stare at the ellon before her.

"Wasn't they surprised that we'd been so late to announce it?" asked she spitefully.

"No," Beleg shook his head, "Actually, no one was."

Amazing how everyone could be so blind.

"Haldir is here," continued her brother a bit calmer, "He comes every morning and every evening. What should I be telling him?"

"Tell him he can go home," Aerwain lay back again. She had no wish either to hear about the Warden, or, Eru forbid, to see him.

"It wasn't his fault, you know," Beleg spoke quietly, avoiding a furious knife of a glance she gave him, "He did all he could."

All he could! The betrayal of the only person she still hoped she could trust reduced her almost to scalding tears. Of anger, not of affliction. She was too enraged to let the depth of her distress weigh on her.

"Beleg, are you insane?" hissed she, catching at his forearm so tight that he winced of a sudden pain, "Or may be, you were misinformed? Allow me to clear it all for you. Gwilwileth told our parents that I was-. That Haldir and I were-"

Aerwain cut short, unable to choose a word decent enough for what the inventive Gwilwileth had meant and for what she had really said. It was difficult even to think of it without a throat-squeezing disgust and embarrassment.

"Close," prompted Beleg inexpressively.

"Close," echoed she on a quieter note, "She named the place and the time. Added details. And he confirmed it all."

"He didn't," objected the ellon with calmness that only added to her turmoil.

"And how else would you interpret it? He could tell them it was a crying nonsense!"

Beleg smirked suddenly, a sparkle of acid malice, so uncharacteristic of him, coming to his eyes.

"And thus let your sweet friend bring her idle talk farther than just into our family? Suppose Ada had believed you, mother hadn't been so suspicious… But outside home there would have always been someone to take the gossip on trust. And you know Gwilwileth better than I do. You can imagine how persuasive she is when she protects herself."

"I care not what others think for as long as I'm believed at home."

"I'm afraid you just cannot imagine what you're saying," his indulgent manner wasn't of much help to subside her vexation.

"Do you want to marry me off so much?" gibed she, now plain hostile, "Or is it just your wish to please Haldir?"

"Well, he's probably the only one I'd give you to without a word," Beleg paid no heed to the cutting remark, "He'll take care of you the way you're accustomed to."

"Do not make an idol of him," Aerwain broke in angrily. The tone he had chosen made her feel like an inanimate object of trade, which she wasn't going to tolerate.

"You see, love, I wouldn't say that you fancy someone as much as to wallow here just because you have to marry Haldir. It could have been much worse."

"How do you know there's no one I fancy?"

"Oh, and who may it be? Tarlangion? Please, sister, it's ridiculous," he gave a short, joyless piece of laughter, which seemed poisoned through.

"Why not him?"

"Because he is _her_ brother, to say the least."

"It doesn't make any difference," objected Aerwain, another mention of Gwilwileth slashing her like whip.

"It does, love," he shook his head with regretful air, "Believe me, it always does."

No matter how bitter it felt, deep inside she couldn't call it down.

She had thought of it, indeed. She was thinking of many things while pining herself away here for these five gray days and these five endless nights. In the sheltering cage of her chamber, refusing to let anyone comfort her, she accused, justified, questioned, begged – to no avail. Whenever she tried to excuse anyone, she had to excuse all the rest. Whenever she shifted the blame on one single person, it appeared that all the others were no less faulty.

And she was everyone's fool in the end.

"Do you think he knew?" asked she thinly. Truth be told, she wished she never had. The answer was obvious.

"I think you shouldn't dwell on it."

Generous as ever. She had to be bitterly ashamed of having taken her anger out on him the way she had done it.

"Allow me to see Haldir in," urged Beleg softly, and this time she had hardly any will to refuse him.

"Do as it pleases you…" whispered she in utter helplessness, moving in bed to face the predictable, and thus welcome wall.

In heavy silence Beleg left the chamber. Strange as it was she couldn't hear him call anyone or pronounce a word at all. And yet, before she managed to brace herself for the meeting, the door opened again, admitting the unsought guest.

Aerwain didn't move, frozen through by the soft rustle of soles, as he crossed the room to halt nearer than she herself would have permitted. But now the moment when she could stop it was blundered away. She was left only to keep staring at the wall as stubbornly, not flinching even when the tall shadow, lying over her, slipped down, and her coach was pushed a little as though someone hit into it slightly.

Not a sound was let out.

Curiosity defeated her, and she turned her head cautiously to find out that he was sitting on the very floor at her bed, leaning his back against its carved welt. Perhaps the posture he had chosen was the best one. She wouldn't know how to look him in the eyes, anyway.

"I feared for you," he sent the words into the darkness, having somehow managed to deprive them of any drop of emotion.

"It's very nice of you … milord," replied Aerwain, silly politeness leaping out of nowhere.

"I suppose it is senseless to ask you to forgive me."

An assertion, not an inquiry. His role was safe, thought she with a bitter respect. She couldn't utter a sound of accusations while he accused himself, and did it so indifferently. He gave her no chances to rebel. And although she hadn't been going to, the rising irritation shook her up considerably.

"It is," confirmed she in icy disdain.

He didn't answer, choosing the safe quietness instead.

Drop… drop...drop.

His hair was darker than usual. Accustomed to the twilight, she discerned that some tresses were wet, as if he had been walking or standing in the rain for a considerable time. His clothes appeared damp, too. Aerwain wondered whether he really felt no inconvenience from sitting like that in the piercing draught, or pretended that he didn't. She probably had to tend toward the first alternative. Although a grown-up, she found it hard to change her deep-rooted childish opinion that the lack of complaints of anything on Haldir's part was dictated by his invincibility (or even in_sens_ibility, like it sometimes seemed) rather than by his pride.

"I made a mistake," he kept on, the same cool concentration marking every word, "What I said was rushy. I do not even know how to ask you…"

He cut short all of a sudden, bringing a hand against his eye with a barely audible groan of discontent.

"What is it?" asked she unwittingly, out of sheer habit.

"Something got in there," he rubbed the seemingly sore place hard, "Do not bother, it'll pass off…"

Strange that it should have happened now, a mere instant after she had claimed him incapable of any grievances.

Softened against all good sense, Aerwain sat herself up. It wasn't in her rules to show coarse to the troubles of others.

Perhaps, that's why others appeared so eager to use her.

"And what if it's not?" reproached she almost peacefully, "Let me see."

She expected him to decline the offer. However, he did no such thing. Without uttering half-a-word he turned to her, making her wish to gasp at the sight that was presented to her.

His paleness was the first thing that arrested her attention. Paleness and the deep lines, which had stretched over his forehead and sharpened at the corners of his mouth. Even his eyes were hollow and lackluster, as though he hadn't slept his fill for many a month already.

Was he always that haggard?

In a flash of cool reasoning she realized that he was suffering, too, and may be, no less intensely. After all, he hadn't only lost the chance of having his love for himself, but had to witness how easily she had thrown his reputation, even his very fate to the altar of her well-being. How he must hate her, Aerwain, for plunging him into even a deeper misery! It was only left to wonder why at all he got himself into the ostentation of this proposal and all that tailed after it.

And you are really a fool that they all deem you to be, told she to herself. There was only one reason of such obstinate self-destruction. He was protecting Gwilwileth from the denunciation he thought would follow inevitably after their reckless behaviour at the feast was discovered. For her safety, he was ready to compromise anyone, to entangle himself in the web of a loveless marriage … and to carry the burden on and on, guilty of meanness and realizing this guilt.

Aerwain would pity him, if the happening left her enough compassion for anyone else, except herself…

Barely brushing her fingers against his cheek-bones, she made him raise his head so that the scanty light measured the depth of his pupils to the bottom. Against her expectations, they were clear, no signs of harm traceable.

"I'm not repulsive by touch, am I?"

It was hard to believe he had deceived her with this stale trick. She jumped to her feet, intending to jerk back in indignation, but the very first attempt to do it ended in nothing, for the Warden sprang after and caught her forearms – gently, yet firmly enough for her to understand that he didn't plan letting her free immediately.

"Is it so unbearable to think of me as of your husband?" insisted he.

"It's… Yes."

The reply was pathetic, so pathetic that she herself cringed at it, no matter if the question matched it in absurdity.

"Why? I'm not an orc, not a monster. I'm in my right mind. You won't have to be ashamed of me."

His reserve was insulting. He advanced the arguments one by one monotonously, as if he had repeated them to himself so many times that they had finally lost their sense.

He had to say it all to Gwilwileth. Or, perhaps, the speech had been prepared for her, but he was too late to pronounce it.

"I do not love you," uttered Aerwain downright. A silly reason, considering he wouldn't seek her affection, but she had to have her say.

His fingers unclenched, and she finally released herself, using the respite to move away from him. It was a pity they were in her room, not outside, where there were more opportunities for that.

"You won't see me often," said he listlessly, the voice blank like a piece of untouched parchment, "You know what my duty is."

"Why would I need such a marriage?" enquired she with a rise of her brow.

"Aerwain, I am guilty," a tinge of feeling leaked through the indifference he had assumed, "I admit it. I will do anything to give you the life you deserve."

"I like the way I live now."

"Then nothing changes, except for that you'll have your own house," unimpeded, Haldir reached out to stroke her cheek slightly, the touch almost impersonal, like he himself was oblivious of this movement, "As for this month… You'll have whatever courtship you desire."

"Haldir…" overcoming the shudder that passed through her at the mention of courtship, Aerwain laid an imploring palm over his chest, "Isn't it better just to tell the truth?"

By the way the Warden effaced himself she guessed that was the question he dreaded most. No wonder.

His gaze downcast, he squeezed her fingers in a tight circle of his. If it wasn't that ridiculous she'd swear they were trembling, pressing her hand deeper into his tunic.

"It is too late, Aerwain," muttered he hoarsely, "I'm sorry."

As if she didn't know it herself! Oh, she did, as well as he knew whose fault it was.

"What if I said I had promised myself to someone?"

Haldir staggered back slightly, his arm dropping limp by his side.

"If you did," he enunciated with difficulty, "then I…"

"Would you take back you words?" the hope for deliverance imparted her the inspiration she had lacked up to the moment. At least, Haldir seemed ready if not to believe her, then just to accept the straw she was handing him. If not for the gray haze, hanging in the chamber, she would say his face flashed with the colour of hope…

"I…Would," his glance was burning her through now, "Did you, Aerwain?"

She almost set to speaking, almost let herself pronounce the lie that could save them both… And broke off, as the knowing came it wouldn't change anything. What would ensue her deceit? It will not reverse the happening.

Besides, she just couldn't level herself with Gwilwileth. She wasn't a liar.

Of course, there was no one whom she would approach with an offer of her heart and her hand willingly. It could be Tarlangion, but…

Not a thought of Tarlangion! Neither now, nor ever.

"No," throated she, dispirited and angry at her own undue morality.

A slight noise broke out of Haldir's lips. She saw his chest rise and fall heavily and just once, as though that draught of breath was the last one, fated to come through it.

Having, perhaps, noticed the pity in her eyes, the Warden turned away swiftly. His palms lay against the windowsill with such a force, that it seemed the wood was nearly cracking under their weight.

"I admire your honesty," said he at last. The phrase was crispy as a moan of a breaking branch.

"It doesn't mean that there'll never be anyone to want it," reminded Aerwain, as if there was any sense in the pitiful squirming her attempts to dissuade him from the step were.

"True it is," admitted Haldir with a drawn half-a-smile, meant for Eru knew whom, because he was still peering out of the window steadily.

"What then?" she went on without mercy either for him, or for herself.

He shrugged his shoulders in a jerky manner.

"I'm a Warden, not a jailor. If it ever happens, you'll be free to act as your heart chooses."

Her smile was probably matching his reply in despondent bitterness.

"How is it possible?"

"It should worry me, not you, milady Aerwain," cold steel of resolve rang in his tone, so that she felt the subject was closed on that, "I do not break promises."

For some moments of foible she envied Gwilwileth, who received such an unconditional, unflinching love.

Repeating his shrug, Aerwain whipped away.

It must have been unwise of someone as weakened as her to move so abruptly. Before she managed to take fright at the wilt that seized her limbs in a gentle grasp, the world around had blurred, shaken violently, like a leaf in severe wind.

She didn't faint. It was just that one moment she stood on her own feet quite firmly, and then, before she knew it, she was curled up in indurate arms, regaining her consciousness with difficulty. Aerwain rather guessed than saw that she had been carried to the window. The Warden was whispering something soothingly, but his words were helpless to fight through the mantle of dizziness that clouded her perception. Once his lips brushed against her ear – she winced, and he drew back instantly.

"Do you feel better?"

"No," mouthed Aerwain into the damp tunic.

Stepping lightly, Haldir moved away from the window and leaned over the bed to help her crawl out of his grasp.

She clutched at his shoulders, unconsciously scared that he would deprive her of this support. The room around was spinning no worse than if she had drunk the whole bottle of her father's oldest and most guarded wine.

"Is there anything you want?" the Warden kneeled again, trying insistently to look her in the face, which she was as insistently hiding, her hot forehead against the support of her hands, "Some water?"

"No, thank you."

"You know we cannot avoid it now," stated he plainly.

"I know," confirmed she.

"Will you marry me?"

From under the arch of her clasped fingers she watched his bent figure. A mockery of proposal. If that was what he called giving her the courtship she desired, he failed to comply with his own plans not having started to fulfill them.

"I will."

"Aerwain…"

"Yes, I will!" she thought she had shrieked it out, while in reality hardly a sound had left her lips. He cast up a long … _trying_ glance, the glance that made a sudden blush creep into Aerwain's face. No matter what had happened before, that was an oath of her engagement. A promise to tie her life with the life of this familiar stranger in front of her.

Unexpectedly the realization of his masculinity made a lump rise in her throat. Up to now he had been just a friend of a family. She had never treated him as a man, or a probable object of attraction.

But he had broad wrists and a proud bearing. And eyes, unresigned and haughty.

And she was soon to own it all, even if not exactly for true.

She wasn't in love with her future husband. Nor was she one of the sighing, maudlin lasses, striving for any sign of romantic affection, no matter whom it came from. But deep in her mind there lived a well-established persuasion that the acceptance of a marriage proposal was a ritual, submitting to certain rules and rites.

Like an embrace, sealing the mutual agreement.

Like a kiss…

Love or no love, she felt obliged to follow them.

It looked like Haldir was undergoing the same struggle. He was still on his knees, hesitations reflected on his marbellish face.

Both of them will have to do it sooner or later.

If he kissed her, she would bear. She would try not to give a start to make it comfortable for him, if not for herself.

If he kissed her…

He didn't. Nor did he kiss her hand, which she had already got accustomed to. Instead of that he stooped even lower and brought the hem of her dress against his mouth in a gesture of the humblest respect, paid only to royalties.

What would she do, be she someone else now? What if she had been yearning for this moment?

Would she run her hands through this sleek hair, drying up, but still keeping the fresh and sad smell of the rain?

Or lean forward to him, paying surrender for surrender…

A wish to call his name, just to cognize how it felt on her tongue now, overwhelmed her.

Haldir. Her…

"You'd better rest," said he quietly, rising up to his feet.

He was right. There was no use prolonging it.

Aerwain nodded obediently, like a good little girl sent to bed for a reason of a late hour. Without protest she accepted the indifferent care with which the Warden aided her in rather a difficult task of lying down.

"Goodnight," wished he in an undertone, "Sweet dreams."

It was not easy to keep her lids apart and she quit trying, preferring comfort over civility.

The careful tap of the door against its jamb heralded his leave.

She had drifted into troubled slumber for mere moments, when someone's heedless motion jerked her out of the blissful oblivion.

Could it be that anyone else wished to see her as much as not to mind her unconscious state?

She didn't open her eyes. She wasn't even sure she didn't dream of a visitor.

"Beleg?" called she with uncertainty.

"Yes," the voice was muffled, or perhaps, it was just her somnolence that made it almost unrecognizable.

"Haldir- has he left?"

"Yes," repeated the man as hushfully.

The sleep was taking the better of her. The last thing she remembered before giving herself up to the darkness was the warmth of cautious, tender lips on her temple and a heavy hand, lingering on her dishevelled hair…

"Sleep," rustled the same featureless voice, "Sleep, my own one. Worry of nothing."


	9. Then let us kiss and part

_**A/n: **__Did someone say "mid-October"? Here's the mid-October chapter for you. Thank you a thousand times for your comments – it's a real pleasure to read them. Review, if you don't mind. _

**Chapter 9.**

_**Then let us kiss and part **_

_Hard is that heart, and unsubdued by love,_

_  
That feels no pain, nor ever heaves a sigh;_

_  
Such hearts the fiercest passions only prove,_

_  
Or freeze in cold insensibility._

_Oh! then indulge thy grief, nor fear to tell_

_  
The gentle source from whence thy sorrows flow,_

_  
Nor think it weakness when we love to feel,_

_  
Nor think it weakness what we feel to show. _

_--- _William Cowper

Her lips ached of smiling. She smiled, welcoming guest after guest, smiled, answering inexhaustible congratulations, smiled, maneuvering between the joyous friends and relatives to see that everyone received proper attention.

Smiled, smiled, smiled.

And still, it was not enough to make up for one single moment, when she had failed to force her mouth into a contented crescent. Whenever her glance fell down, on the silver band, clasped round her finger, that moment flashed before her mind's eye in all its brightness.

Nothing went the way that she had imagined, though she had never been too infatuated with picturing her engagement. Still, even for her modest demands it was a poor joy.

Her father's voice, pronouncing the customary phrases of betrothal, resounded too loud in her ears, and her fiancé's hand was too hard to her touch… And, when already having received part of his future rights on her, the Warden inclined to her face for a due kiss…

It was then when she ceased smiling and shrank back, the discipline, which had been supporting her before, utterly exhausted.

He saved her out of the straits, turning the motion into an emphasized bow. The married ladies hid their grins in their kerchiefs, and Aerwain understood that the rumours of her shyness would from that day on swell manifold.

Thankfully, as the traditional part of the evening was over, the flow of arrivals separated them and for a considerable time already they moved around the hall each on their own, meeting now and then to exchange a few meaningless words.

She gave a start, as someone's palm lay on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. But it was only Beleg, whom she hadn't spoken much to, either.

"Don't you think you've been ignoring Haldir for too long?" sizzled he through a brotherly smirk, "Everyone here will soon forget, who it is that you're marrying."

"Not that I care."

Yet she had to confess it was a just remark. Haldir had long finished with his obligations of civility and was now standing in humble solitude so close to the door that one could think he wanted to bid the company farewell, which was strange, for the house was his own. At present nobody has yet started to notice it, but it was inevitable.

Bracing herself, Aerwain crossed the festive chamber to be welcomed by a reserved curve of the lips.

"Have some rest," whispered Haldir, leaning over to her so that it must have seemed he was saying something deeply intimate. She was supposed to blush, but no colour came to her cheeks. Truth be told, she didn't take pains of trying, for she was well aware of what poor a pretender she had always been. Let it at least look natural for the one everybody knew her to be, if not for the one she was expected to become.

"I don't need to," replied she as quietly, "Thank you."

"And still," insisted the Warden. Not to attract redundant attention with an undue dispute, Aerwain took the seat by his side grudgingly. May be, she needed it more than she had thought. Besides, if she allowed him to lead in the performance of their engagement, it would free her from more pretence on her own part. Didn't many hold the opinion that in a couple, no matter if the feelings of both parties were reciprocated, the love of one was still stronger than the affection of the other? And if so, why couldn't she be the one to let herself be taken care of, instead of caring for her … betrothed?

Haldir excused himself for a trip to the nearest table and returned with two goblets of dark-ruby, heavily scented wine, one of which she accepted with a small nod of appreciation.

The first sip spread over her chest in longed-for warmth, which enlivened her slightly. With a sigh she eased in the seat, occasionally brushing her shoulder against Haldir's hand, which was lying on the chair-back. Now that the blood in her veins was running much faster, she was willing to assert the respite was a welcome one.

"I must be pale," though just a thought, it was said out loud.

"It doesn't blemish you," noted the Warden in a voice so low, that the comment was almost inaudible.

Aerwain hurled him a stony glance. Was he having fun at her? In her personal opinion, he was overdoing with the role of a tender fiancé, and not just a bit. It was quite unnecessary to add so much of a grave caress to his voice.

"You don't have to pay me compliments," snapped she, as cold as he was gentle, "We are too far from anyone to be heard."

Haldir lowered his head, but not in confusion, as she would prefer to think. His only intention was to give his own wine its due. One thing reconciled her with his neglectful attitude – judging by how his fine mouth was distorted at the draught, the beverage wasn't as much to his liking as it was to hers.

"I'm sorry if it insults you," replied he matter-of-factly.

"Aerwain! Haldir!"

The company of mirthful youths, who had been most persistent in their merrymaking this evening, was waving at them invitingly, lined up for another round of unruly dancing. The older guests were studying the jocund party with a mixture of worry and good-nature, moving closer to the rim of the hall not to be swept off their feet when the turmoil began.

The Warden chuckled warmly.

"Milady Aerwain?" his tone, too, held the note of invitation. Who could have thought…

"No," said she firmly. With a slight shrug Haldir turned to the festive elves and shook his head in a polite refusal.

"If you are tired, we can finish the celebration," suggested he, when the dancers left them in peace, having lost their hope to make the heroes of the day join the fun, "Just say."

"We cannot just drive them away, can we?"

The persistence, with which he kept calling her for a talk, began bothering her. To her own mind they could as well sit quietly. Though it wouldn't do her much good either, because the silence, shared with him, was as tedious as their awkward word exchanges.

Not letting her irritation develop into something more hostile, the Warden evidently thought it wiser to free her from his presence.

"If you excuse me."

"Oh, I will," murmured Aerwain under her nose, yet, unfortunately, not quiet enough for him not to make it out. His brows knit, he slipped past her without further observations.

She listened to herself in faint surprise. Had it happened earlier, and she'd have eaten herself alive for the lack of courteousness. As for now, she wasn't in the least ashamed of it. The only feeling the Warden evoked in her was the perplexity at how he managed to retain the air of restrained, yet sincere satisfaction throughout the whole evening. To all appearance, his smiles were not born by much effort, nor delivered him the exertion she was coming through. Certainly, they were not half as beaming as hers, but when he did smile, his eyes revealed the sparkle of a genuine, unalloyed triumph. No one would ever guess it was a put-on, having nothing to do with the real state of things. Whether he trapped her hand in his, or stood by her side to face another portion of sincere, if mostly senseless well-wishes, his bearing acquired the tint of subtle pride, which compelled Aerwain to agree that if she herself were among the guests, she'd melt in sappiness at the sight of his "love" for the future wife and his joy of having gained her for himself.

No matter how resolutely Haldir had left her, he didn't move off too far, having instead decided for a more or less elf-less spot at the same table from where he had brought wine for both of them.

She had to stop staring at him like this after she had practically driven him away. Especially now that he saw her surveillance after him.

Suddenly her heart seemed to have frozen in her chest.

Right behind Haldir… Dark-faced and grave like he'd come to the funeral, not to the engagement… Slipping between the dancing couples like between bonfires…

Tarlangion…

Their eyes met, and she was the first to glance away, having no will to bear the storm, which was raging in the light-blue pools between his lashes.

She had persuaded herself that he was a traitor as great as his sister. The thought had seemed comforting once – now she paid for the comfort bitterly. She had been so sure he wouldn't appear to add to her troubles that to see him was a knife in her already rugged heart.

Why did he have the temerity to come at all, if even Gwilwileth spared her, much to everyone's concealed astonishment?

The breath refusing to go through her chest, she shifted her gaze to the Warden. The change in her didn't escape his attention. He was frowning, a mute question written on his face.

She didn't respond to it, as the sense of his inquiring expression had simply failed to reach her. All she could do was shake her head, pleading Eru knew whom and feeling her throat squeezed in panic. And once more her eyes chained themselves to the brother of her once best friend.

Having despaired to obtain any intelligible reaction from her, the Warden followed the direction of her baited glance. In a blink of an eye the softness, if there was any, evaporated from his every single feature. Lips drawn together, he put his glass back to the table and moved counter Tarlangion, who was still unaware of the unexpected hindrance.

It could seem they had barely touched shoulders. None of them should have noticed such a insignificant collision. Nevertheless, Tarlangion suddenly stopped dead, as if his legs had rooted themselves to the ground on a next step.

It took Aerwain a mere instant to grasp the reason of this halt – and the reason quite material, to that.

The hand of the Warden was gripping at the wrist of his adversary. And though the hold didn't look too tight, intuition told her that it wasn't easy to release oneself from it.

Through the clenched teeth Tarlan hissed something cross and threatening. Haldir half-turned his head to grant him with a derisive, challenging stare from under the drooping eye-lids. Aerwain cursed the noise of the celebration, hampering her from hearing the words which came off the lips of her intended, but the wrathful visitor must have heard them well. His chin jerked up contemptuously, Tarlangion attempted to proceed with his stride and failed, as the Warden made a snake-smart move back to rise in his way again.

And again they exchanged inaudible, yet undoubtedly hostile phrases.

…As though on command, they both chose to look back, to where the miserable watcher was nearly squirming in her seat. The eyes of Tarlangion were frenzied and accusing. Haldir regarded her with a hardly fathomable expression, balancing between a calm self-confidence and a strange, almost desperate appeal.

That last drop was quite enough of her endurance.

Swiftly she took herself up and headed to the balcony, leaving the field of the bloodless battle.

The night accepted her into the soft embrace, kissing the blush away from her hot cheeks and running a motherly hand against her aching brow. Racked both by anger and weakness, she stamped the goblet on the balcony railings and rested against them, dry-washing her face violently not to permit the eye-water have its way with her.

And even alone she wasn't fated to find tranquility. Somewhere below the door flapped hard. A parting elf leapt down from the platform, landing on his feet flawlessly, but with a muted swearword. Another curse was spat out as he kicked the high grass in helpless rage and stormed away into the wood faster than her gaze could follow his leave.

Aerwain started back instinctively, afraid that he'd see and recognize her, as she had recognized him. Her elbow brushed against the forgotten goblet – she attempted to catch it, yet it was a moment too late.

The thing crashed against the cold floor, sprinkles of crystal incrustation flitting asunder like fireflies. Aerwain threw up her hands in helpless anger.

Why was she such a blunderer? Why could she never keep things whole, her own life including?

With an exasperated sniff she sank on her knees, paying no heed to the crumpling dress. It was her celebration, after all. The guests would have to bear any appearance of hers. And if they didn't – the better for her. Perhaps, that would make them say their goodbyes sooner.

Something moved behind her swiftly - she gave an involuntary start, clenching her fist and whirling around to expose the intruder.

The balcony was empty. Must have been a bird… Or a rush of the wind in the leaves.

She needed some time to comprehend from where the drops of red fluid had appeared on the floor, while she had been busy with tracing the inexistent spy. Only as her fingers unclasped, revealing the ghastly picture her hand had become, and she was forced to hiss in sudden pain, the origin of the fluid got much clearer.

Funny though it be, it was all she lacked to calm down. Or else it simply marked the limit, stepping over which she just ceased caring. Marvelously serene, Aerwain set to drawing the splinters of glass out of her poor ripped-up flesh.

She was still sweating over it, when her solitude was interrupted by the coming of Haldir. Well, she supposed he had to show up sooner or later.

His face fell at the sight of her bleeding palm.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," replied she, standing up and shaking the last red-stained grits off her skin, "I'm clumsy."

"Let me see," uttered he hastily.

She pulled the hand away from his reached-out one under an unaccountable fear of a sharper ache.

"I'll be careful," promised he, "Please, Aerwain."

Still reluctant, she entrusted him with the duties of the healer. He studied each cut as carefully as he would have studied a wound, left by an orc's arrow. Aerwain held her tongue in leash not to remind him that the goblet was not likely to be poisoned. She didn't feel like mocking, however, when out of nowhere the Warden procured a short gleaming poniard. The sight of the weapon forced her to hold her breath a bit. For a moment or so she could swear he was going to knife some pieces of glass, she had missed, right out of her palm.

Fortunately, nothing like that came.

Before she was able stop him, he cut off a flap of his gorgeous clothing and wrapped it around the wounds.

"I'm sorry for that," she thought he spoke about the accident, until he added a troubling: "It just seemed to me you had no wish to see him."

Wouldn't he let her forget about it?

Aerwain could revolt against his conceit, if not for the realization that she did feel certain relief when he stood between her and the disturbing arrival.

"You were right," admitted she tiredly.

"Was I, really?" he considered her in a testing manner, as though expecting another confirmation of her approval.

At least, this was the thing she could give him freely.

She nodded a weary assent.

Her palm was growing numb. Tomorrow she would probably be unable to take something in it without a grimace. The makeshift bandage was not such a sure remedy as he had thought it to be. Blood had already oozed its way through the thin fabric and started drying up in a shapeless and ugly spot.

Unconsciously, she touched the shred of cloth with a healthy hand and winced as the cuts responded with a dull, but perceptible ache.

"Does it still hurt?" asked Haldir, and interrupted himself immediately, "Of course, it does. I'll call someone to help you."

"Please, don't," implored Aerwain, loathing a thought of the fuss that her injury will provoke. She wasn't going to faint of such a trifle loss of blood, and on no account did she plan to listen to the cackle of what a bad omen it was that a girl had cut herself at her engagement.

Half-a-step towards the hall, the Warden halted.

"As you wish," he shrugged his shoulders, but submitted to the plea with no obvious discontent.

Little did she know that it was too early to be set at ease by his pliability.

She choked on a word of thankfulness as all of a sudden he moved so close that the distance between them could be measured in a mere inch. She didn't understand how, but she appeared trapped between him and the edge of the balcony, with no chance to advance or to retreat.

"We are watched," murmured Haldir into her ear. His voice deepened as he bent lower, covering her from the lookers-on. At a loss as of what to do Aerwain obeyed when he put his arms around her waist to bring her almost limp frame against his body. It occurred to her that for a maiden in love she must have been a strange sight, so she ventured to slide her hands up his chest to correspond to the fable they had to uphold.

"Close your eyes," requested he on a gentle note, and she did so, out of resignation as much as out of the wish to hide from what was happening.

She was so benumbed that failed to resist when he brought his face unbearably near hers…

There was nothing in the first kiss she had ever received from a male. A chaste touch of the unmoving mouth, neither more, no less. That's what she had thought before his lips parted slowly, his breath mingling with the short sigh she uttered at realizing that the kiss had not even started. As yet. The thought shook her from head to foot. At some blessed moment her being split mercifully, one half of it shrinking under the imposed caress, the other – observing her unlucky twin from the outside… watching her hands clasp at the Warden's tunic and ruin its immaculate smoothness just as she had ruined that of her own dress. A nice couple of vagabonds both of them will look.

One absurdity followed another in her foggy mind until her thoughts melted into a venomous witch-blend, and there left only the feeling of an alien touch, which was growing not so alien…

Whether out of pity, or out of his own coldness towards he, but Haldir decided to finish the torture.

Carefully he drew away from her lips to place two light, almost-yet-not kisses on her trembling eye-lids. They tasted salty for him, she supposed, because of the tears that had welled up willfully and for no reason.

His forehead leaned against hers, he stood still, as though cherishing the feeling of love and completeness.

He hadn't been mistaken. With a corner of her ear Aerwain caught the sound of someone's shifting from one foot to another awkwardly, then a piece of uneasy cough.

The Warden didn't give the slightest attention to the source of disturbance, devoted to the task of not letting her break free from his embrace.

Centuries and centuries had passed, before the obstinate beholder finally sighed his or her exasperation and abandoned the balcony. As soon as they were left alone, Haldir let her go at once, withdrawing himself out of her reach, let alone her touch.

Feeling the unworthy shiver, Aerwain turned away and had to resort to the support of the railings again, for as silly as it was, her knees were literally buckling under her from the aftereffects of what she had to live through.

"Forgive me for that."

She turned to respond, but the voice failed her. He was standing with his back to her, his arms folded and his posture screaming of tension.

"Bring me some wine," was the first she could push out of herself – the first thing she could invent.

The request sounded raucous and desperate even for her.

"As you wish," he bowed shortly and strolled to the hall in a pointedly firm and certain gait.

The night was as gentle and fragrant. The air as sweet and cool. She knew it had to be so, yet her perception blunted to such an extent that all the riches of Lothlorien were helpless to give her consolation.

She heard him return, quicker than he had left. Listening into the hurried steps she wondered if he wasn't afraid to spill that drink he had to bring her through walking so carelessly.

He wasn't.

Particularly because it wasn't him. Only a pathetic cousin, as if that wasn't a bit too thick for her already.

Habitually Aerwain stretched her throbbing lips into a fixed smile, which dimmed as she noticed that her kin was more inclined to sob than to chirrup.

"What is it?"

"Oh, Aerwain, I'm so sorry," prattled the girl, totally upset, "Just don't cry."

Too late for such a warning.

"Why would I?"

"They call you."

Not that the answer was explanative. However, since no other could be hoped for, she tore her feet off the floor and lagged after the ill-messenger, losing herself in conjectures as of how many more surprises she could stand.

And again everyone was lending their eyes to her, as she walked through the hall towards the group of those who shared the duties of celebration hosts this day. Her parents, sullen Beleg, Haldir… The tunic over his heart carried a smudge of blood. A shiver passed along her spine, but in the next moment she figured out that it was probably her fault. She shouldn't have wiped her wounded hand on it. Still, the mark was so out-of-place in the glaring light of the hall, that Aerwain was overwhelmed by inexplicable, groundless anxiety, which was only redoubled as she saw who had joined the company of her present and future family.

Another friend of her father, but, unlike her fiancé, serving his duty at the Palace, not at the borders. Nothing to be so worried about, except that he had come much later than expected, and his clothes gave evidence of his being prepared for a long road ahead.

She curtseyed, causing the arrival to smile softly and return the greeting with a tiny bow.

"Aerwain, sweetheart," he took her hand in his carefully, "I would never spoil your celebration, but I'm afraid Haldir must go."

"Where?" asked Aerwain like a slow-witted. The guest and Haldir exchanged sidelong glances; the former shook his head in negation.

"We cannot tell you," said he apologetically.

She swallowed hard, not knowing whom she could appeal at least for some clarity.

"Haldir," extruded she pitifully.

"I'm sorry, my love," the Warden was as inexorable, "I'll come back as soon as possible."

The guests, who had been listening to the talk with rather a pronounced compassion, began dissipating into small circles politely, certainly to allow them a more affectionate farewell.

"Be careful," the catch in her voice was unfeigned.

It was plain than she had to do more than that. That wasn't the way a leaving fiancé was supposed to be seen off, especially when he was summoned amidst the engagement.

But she kept standing like a marble statue, unable neither to utter a sound nor to make a move towards him.

"Do not trouble yourself," responded Haldir tardily, not having received any other parting indulgency, "Good-bye."

She didn't stir from the place as he took himself off, disappearing in the depth of the house. Her cousins, headed by the anxious aunt, clustered around her. Aerwain vaguely guessed they had to be saying something of comfort, so she just nodded, barely bothering if it was proper or amiss.

The Warden dove out of the inner chambers again, now fully clad in green and grayish robes of a scout. Not paying anyone much notice, he went out quickly.

And only then it finally stung her what his departure meant. She was remaining all alone. While he was here, she could shift part of the trouble on him, certain that he would not fail to bear it. Whom will she go to now?

Following a desperate urge, Aerwain threw herself out of the house.

The party was already on their horses, riding into the thicket one by one.

"Haldir!"

The steed under the Warden swirled around gracefully. Not as gracefully Aerwain caught at the hem of his cloak, hardly caring how it may look either for him, or for anyone else. Troubled by the fate of another garment in danger or, may be, by the impression they could produce, he hunched over to throw an arm around her and pull her up jerkily, so that she almost flew onto the horse's back in front of him.

A firm palm molded itself around her cheek. The softness of the gesture made her start involuntary, as the uneasiness woke up in its former acuity.

Haldir broke the touch at once, as though having burnt himself.

"Yes?" demanded he prosily, hand back on his own lap.

"What shall I do?"

"Wait for me," he waved at the direction of the house, "Hold by Beleg."

"What if…" Aerwain cut off, but he divined the end of the question easily.

_What if you don't return? _

"Will it not be better for you, milady?"

Her heart fluttered painfully at the bitter dry laugh that accompanied his words. Despite all her grudge against him, she craved for making amends for her seeming selfishness, even if she didn't mean what he was eager to assign to her. What it cost her, after all? There was nothing to lose.

"I wouldn't wish to see you harmed," asserted she in a conciliatory undertone.

Instead of looking at her, Haldir considered the wood behind her shoulder persistently. Otherwise it would have been easier to convince him of her sincerity.

For an instant his eyes closed, as though he was already wounded and was trying to overcome the pain. When he opened them again, in his glance there was the same dryness that marked his laughter only a breath ago. In a careful motion he helped her slip back to the ground…

"If so, you are too kind on me. Aerwain," he nodded at her shortly and dissolved between the trees like a swift night shadow.

Some superstitions were well-grounded, occurred to her, as she peered into the thicket gloomily.

A bad sign it was that she spilt her blood today.


	10. Oil on flames

___**A/n**__: Your reviews are very much appreciated. Since some of you have mentioned things like typos, inexactitudes and the rest, I feel there's a certain measure to be assumed. Due to the pretty amount of responsibilities I have, I barely manage to write, let alone to check what I've written. So if anyone has time to do the beta-reading and is willing to lend a hand to a work-murdered author, you are quite welcome to pm me about it._

_Thank you in advance. _

_Read & review, if there's such a wish. __I'm always glad to get some feedback._

**Chapter ****10**

**Oil on**** flames**

_I grieve and dare not show my discontent,_

_  
I love and yet am forced to seem to hate,_

_  
I do, yet dare not say I ever meant,_

_  
I seem stark mute but inwardly do prate,_

_  
...I am and not, I freeze and yet am burned,_

_  
...Since from myself another self I turned. _

_- _Queen Elizabeth I

"This one, may be?"

Aerwain ran her hand along a length of coldish fabric. It would be wrong to say she found any fault in it. Everything, from the pleasing smoothness to the soft honey shimmer, was flawless. Adding some golden thread…and some beads of amber – very light one, where the colour is teasing from the heart of the stone, not revealing itself to the full…It would be a gown to be envied.

The fabric flowed down Aerwain's fingers with a quiet rustle. The skin showed through it slightly, giving it a touch of enticement.

"No," not without pangs of regret she pushed the length away, "I love it, but it is too luxurious."

"It doesn't harm to take a look, does it?" smiled the weaver, winding the fabric back into an accurate roll, "Though Haldir said that you were not likely to buy it."

"Haldir?"

"Yes, he came by some days before your engagement. Ah, here. How do you like this one?"

The cloud of white silk soared up above the table. Aerwain favoured it with one glance, now occupied by quite a different matter.

"And why did he come, I wonder?"

"Surely not to flirt with me, sweetheart," the lady's eyes grew even more sparkling. She obviously enjoyed Aerwain's indignation, mistaking it for anything except what it really was, "He left the money for your fabric."

"Oh, and anything else? Some instructions as of what I should buy?"

Aerwain knew it sounded silly, if not rude also. But recently any mentioning of her fiancé's name unsettled her to such an extent that she was flaring up like dry grass at any word that was distantly similar to it. As for the cases when someone really ventured to pronounce "Haldir" in her presence… The disturber was lucky if an angry stare was all they got. However, her outbursts were mostly ignored or forgiven easily, for they seemed natural for a woman whose beloved was away on a hardly safe mission.

"He wouldn't dare, I see," laughed the weaver, "Who would have thought?"

"The best of all would be if he didn't mention me at all," muttered Aerwain, still in temper.

"It looks like he can't help doing it," observed the lady casually, "Out of fifty words I drew out of him here, forty were your name."

Aerwain sniffed quietly, this time without any particular spite. There was no use letting it all unsettle her. Moreover, that would be rather justifiable, in not advisable, to blush with pleasure and lower her eyes in fake – or genuine – embarrassment. But such play-acts had never been one of her assets, as for the embarrassment… Lately she'd come across things far more confusing than that. And it was needless to mention how little pleasure was involved.

The length of the innocent snow-white colour, outspread before her obligingly, was getting on her temper for some reason. After the remark of the weaver she couldn't help feeling that her each motion and each thought were predicted by Haldir unmistakably. It wasn't a pleasant realization. In fact, it gave her the impression of being watched and evaluated with cold detachment. Even now, although the Warden was too far from Lothlorien to supervise her, she experienced an absurd sensation of having a pair of sharp eyes fixed on her steadily.

Quite awkward, Aerwain twitched her shoulders, as if driving away an importunate fly. She had to cut off that flight of fancy before it scared her completely.

An arch smile played on her lips for a moment. She knew at least one way to prove she wasn't as easy to read. To act counter to Haldir's expectations was all it took to get the better of him.

"I will take this," said she, poking her finger into the goldish gauze, she had turned down only a minute ago, "And this," added she with a nod at a parcel of creamy satin. That should subdue the seducing qualities of the first fabric chosen.

"As you wish," much to Aerwain's relief, the weaver didn't say a word about this sudden change of mind. "Will you sew the dress yourself?"

"If your daughter is not busy, I'd like to ask her about it," when it came to the abstract details of wedding preparations, Aerwain felt right at home. She had long decided that it was no good sewing one's own bridal dress. The foretaste of the celebration was not to be turned into routine. Even though there wasn't much attraction in her tedious expectation of the wedding-day, she kept on holding at her irrelevant convictions not to break more than she had already done.

"She would be offended if you didn't," said the lady good-naturedly, "She's out now, so may be, you will come to see her later?"

"I'll be here tomorrow, once it's convenient," Aewain considered her purchase, her lids half-open, and arrived to the conclusion she had no wish to drag it but and ben when there was no need in it, "May I leave the fabric with you, then?"

"Please, do."

Muttering polite goodbyes, Aerwain turned to the door and started back, at it seemed to her that Haldir have grown out of the floor to stand in her way.

No. He hadn't. Merely a trick of imagination.

She took a deep sigh, immediately growing furious at herself. Such stupid fright, caused by nothing but her own nervousness.

Or not only that.

It took her one quick look over the room to spot another, and, probably, the main reason of her renewed uneasiness. Just another roll of fabric, lying on one of the upper shelves – nothing more. The roll of fabric of the shade so alike to that of the Warden's irises, that it was striking. She must have seen it with a corner of her eye without even realizing she had. That's why she felt watched by her avowed. It was all about that deep, frosty, clear blue colour.

"It's beautiful," said she slowly, her glance chained to the folds of material.

Something that appeared a lucky idea crossed her mind. Despite her having promised Haldir a tunic and taken all – well, almost all the measurements, she'd never proceeded to any real needlework. If she did it now, it could give her something to occupy herself with during the last weeks before the wedding.

"Yes, it is," agreed the weaver heartily, "I received it from Rivendell only yesterday. But it's unsuitable for dresses, I'm afraid."

"I know," responded Aerwain. Not to bethink herself again, she felt in her velvet purse and produced as many coins as her fingers could grasp, "Will it be enough?"

"But, my sweet girl, Haldir has left a lot of mo-"

"It has nothing to do with Haldir's money," interrupted Aerwain with a wave of her hand, "May I have it with me?"

"Of course."

Aerwain was tapping her foot impatiently while the fabric was fetched from its place and tied up with a thin twine.

"Thank you," said she, finally accepting the parcel.

"You are welcome. And don't be so strict on the poor boy," urged the weaver with a gentle reproach, "He takes you too close to heart."

"If he has one."

Though Aerwain very well realized that the reproach was ungrounded.

Outside the weaver's house she was met with loud cheers and a pile of handclaps from her poor brother, who appeared to have been languishing in boredom for a considerable time already. She managed to forget that she'd left him awaiting here.

"Finally!" exclaimed he with exaggerated elation, "I've already started to think you perished under the heaps of fabric."

She contented herself with a lift of a brow, especially because Beleg was hardly waiting for any answer.

"A blue wedding dress?" continued he, pointing at the parcel in her hands, "How extravagant."

"It's for Haldir," explained Aerwain in a steely tone.

"I don't think he will look good in a dress," drawled Beleg musingly, "Blue though it be."

"Beleg, you're insufferable!"

With a smirk, which made her suspect he took the insult for a compliment, the elf bowed and attempted to take the fabric from her.

"No, thanks," Aerwain pulled away quickly, "Elders mustn't carry anything as heavy."

"So thoughtful of you," grumbled Beleg, but held it better not to insist. He knew her fits of self-dependence too well to do so.

As her brother kept tactful silence, nothing prevented Aerwain from reviving the disturbing talk at the weaver's and thinking it through on their way back home.

Haldir could have warned her about his visit to the weaver. On the other hand, it produced quite a veritable impression of one of those surprises men often give to their sweethearts. Besides, he would have paid for the dress, anyway, wouldn't he? And it was quite natural that he mentioned her in his talks so often. Unlike her, he did keep it in mind that they had come to be the object of too close attention to behave suspiciously.

It hasn't been too long since their quite a disastrous engagement. Aerwain sincerely preferred to avoid staying at home, when there was an opportunity to be out. Her mother didn't have much to say to her; when they couldn't but exchange a word or two, they did it in a stiff, forcedly casual manner, which brought no good to either of them.

As for her father, he has always been a rare guest in his own house. Too much responsibility presented him a grim choice between the duty and the family, and, as much as he loved the latter, the former appeared to be of a higher priority. Nobody took it to their heads to take offence at his decision – after all, Aerwain and her brother were not nurslings to need constant surveillance, and his wife was independent enough not to lean on Berenon's shoulder daily and nightly.

There was Beleg, but unlike today, Beleg spent most of his time on patrols or out training. Little by little, against herself Aerwain began to realize that her thoughts dwelled with Haldir more often than she wanted. She hadn't lied telling she had no wish to see him harmed, no matter how he had interpreted her last question. Moreover, as the days went by, and no news came from the frontiers, the worm of worry gnawed its way deeper into her heart. It was, perhaps, because of guilt she felt before him. Her farewells could have been a bit warmer, they would have been warmer if it hadn't been for the straits they both appeared in.

To feed quiet the whimpering conscience Aerwain forced herself to think about the soon-to-be tunic in her hands. Just like the fabric she bought for her wedding dress, it shimmered, yet this shimmer was not so calming. It was colder. Sharper. A creation of crafty fingers, the thing still lacked the warmth of a living body to give it shape and soul.

Not for a long. Smiling a little smile, Aerwain touched the pliable blue material – she wanted to get acquainted with it, to get used to the way it felt against one's skin. Not perceiving the character, concealed in the fabric, it was senseless even to dream of making something decent out of it.

But she did perceive it. And she was almost sure she was capable of opening it to the full.

Only…Would she dare touch it again, when it covered the body it was meant for?

Strangely, the thought didn't confuse her, like its sisters had. It was disturbing, but there was attraction to it that she couldn't either argue or resist. It gave her aches like the healing cuts on her palm. Beleg was surprised that they were not skinning over for so long, unaware that it was all her fault. She touched them again and again, both revolted and fascinated with the way the sore skin protested against more irritation.

Lucky enough not to have come across much pain, she was studying the novelty of the feeling with fairly a childish persistence.

That's why her hand was still bandaged.

And, perhaps, the same detached curiosity was to blame, when in this or that way the thoughts of the kind kept recurring to her, finding her a little less reluctant to wave them off with each new return.

"Are those sweet dreams you are dreaming?"

She gave a quick glance to Beleg. Both he and father were surprisingly calm these days, each in his own way. Looking at them it was impossible to say that one was marrying off a defamed daughter, and the other – wittingly pushing his only sister into a loveless alliance.

May be, they knew better. She wasn't certain she would have kept her presence of mind if they had assumed the "proper" attitudes from the very beginning.

"Perhaps," responded she tardily. And it wasn't such an outrageous lie, after all.

They were close to their house already. Aerwain made a small face as echo of clear voices wafted to her from behind the wall of mallorns. She didn't greet the prospect of idle chatting with whoever there was.

And it looked like she would have to stop for a talk. Several elves, which gathered at the clearing, were somewhat familiar. Had they been among the guests at her engagement? Perhaps so, because she remembered raising a goblet along with at least one of them.

Of course. They were that party to have left together with the March Warden. Judging by their dusty clothes, it hadn't been too long since they crossed the border of Lothlorien. Haldir had to be among them.

But he wasn't.

The discovery plunged its icy fingers into her heart and jerked it down so abruptly that she barely refrained from catching at her chest to assuage the pain it gave her. His absence could mean anything, but for her it suddenly had only one explanation. And this explanation nearly took the ground from under her feet.

As it should have been expected she and Beleg were noticed at once.

"Lady Aerwain!" cried out one of the elves cheerfully. The rest turned around swiftly, lips stretching in smiles of recognition and welcome.

"Our beloved fiancée!" caught up another and immediately let out an indignant huff, receiving a punch in the ribs from his neighbour.

"I'd see you repeating that in Haldir's presence," murmured the offender. The company indulged themselves in tuneful laughter.

No, she was not mistaken. Six of them had left, yet five were standing in front of her now. And none was her intended.

"Where's Haldir?" she choked out finally.

"He's delivering the report to the Lord," replied the nearest elf as if nothing was wrong. Little fool, went Aerwain at herself, of course, nothing was wrong for him, "He asked to bring you his apologies. Would be back in the evening, he said."

She nodded an uncertain assent, not in full control of her movements. By their careless manner she should have guessed everyone had come back unscathed, the Warden including. It was the momentary panic that prevented her from it.

It was still hard to breathe, even though she fully realized her mistake. The elves departed one by one, wishing her good-day. The most daring one kissed her hand, which she gave him without any protest.

"You are as green as your dress, sister," Beleg broke the silence, concern ringing in his usually jocular tone, "Let's move on."

"No… I've…I've changed my mind. Here," Aerwain handed him the fabric, "Leave it in my chamber."

"Are you sure you need no help?"

"Only fresh air."

Quite perplexed, Beleg took himself off obediently, having looked back once or twice to make sure she had really meant to drive him away.

So she was left alone with her new care, the one she'd have never believed could emerge at all. For some moments she doubted her own resolve – perhaps, it would be better to just call her suspicions absurd and ignore them.

Whom did she want to fool now? It was impossible to shell herself and disregard the rough reality, no matter how hard she tried.

One thing was to worry about a family friend, whose life was supposedly put under a constant threat. Or to go on musing about an unwanted future husband on the eve of the wedding. But to be on a verge of fainting at a simple assumption that his fate befell him at last was quite a different pair of shoes.

What was that, if not affection?

She would make sure of it, of course. Although now it looked a little redundant…

With a deep sigh of a swimmer, preparing for a plunge, Aerwain closed her eyes and allowed the imagination have its way with her feelings.

Nobody said Haldir's mission had ended safely. On the contrary, she'd just found out that he'd been wounded. Gravely. May be, even…

No, she snapped at herself.

Just wounded.

Unconscious. Losing blood.

She gave up, not having started to deny the effect the picture had had upon her. It felt sore. So sore that she regretted having shown it a way to her head.

Very well, she _was_ concerned about his well-being. It didn't prove anything, did it? She never said he was nothing for her.

It could be just a common feminine sensitivity, couldn't it?

_If only… _

There was one last straw she could catch at. Something either to prove her indifference first, last and all the time, or to confirm her worst expectations.

Carefully Aerwain cleared her heart and mind of the reminiscence of ache and anxiety. Chased away the somber visions. And permitted herself to sink into the memory, in which the two of them stood on a balcony, bathing in fragrant nightly air… His lips caressing her tense mouth… his fingers buried in her hair…

She had to be honest with herself. This ghost didn't scare her anymore. If it ever had at all…

The single reason for her having repelled the Warden that night was not aversion. More like the absence of it.

Her eye-lashes still shut, Aerwain tilted her head up a little. Yes, her feelings had revolted against the forceful kiss. Yet now, when the indignation had settled down, she couldn't but admit that Haldir had been patient and skillful.

Even tender.

And the armour, she wore against him, revealed an irreparable chink.

How badly her curiosity had finished!

"I'm even sorry to disturb you."

A caustic remark wedged itself into her musings. Caught off guard, she jumped on the spot, getting even more confused as she discovered to whom this slightly hoarse drawl of a voice belonged.

"Tarlangion!"

For how long had she been exposed to his eyes, before he finally deemed it right to make himself noticed?

The elf greeted her with a deep bow.

"Well met, my heart. Finally. I've been planning to find you at home."

"What's happened?" she knew she was slurring the words and blushing more and more violently under his inquisitive glance, "What do you want?"

"Nothing. Or your company, perhaps," white teeth sparkling in so familiar a smirk, Tarlan offered her his hand, like he had done it a hundred of times before. Aerwain looked at it in hesitations. Despite his seeming amicability, she was not inclined to trust him. May be, she was a simpleton, but not such an incurable one to believe anything had changed since their last encounter.

"What is it, my heart?" his voice was soft, without a hint at those storming emotions that had unsettled her so much during the celebration, "Are we not friends anymore?"

"I'm not sure I can be your friend, Tarlan," replied Aerwain sincerely.

The elf gave a short sad chuckle.

"Then at least don't be my enemy," asked he on a quiet note.

"Very well," still wavering, she put her hand into his and let him lead her on, away from his clearing and her own revelations.

_A blink of an eye after the sound of their steps had died off, the trees let out two more elves__ into the lull of the wood. The first, mature and preoccupied, knit his dark brows in slight disappointment and crossed the clearing in several long strides, ready to vanish between the mallorns again. And he would have, if it hadn't been a for quiet hail of the younger one, who dove from under the thick canopy of braches, a roll of fabric clutched in his hands. _

_Catching up a silent __question, the fabric-encumbered nodded at a small path, which still kept the footprints of the couple. _

"_Not alone," __reported he concisely, the intonation heavy with the meaning, that the older arrival didn't fail to grasp._

_Having changed in the face, he followed the indicated direction in haste. _

"_Could have thanked me, by the way," stated the lucky spy matter-of-fact__ly, and, turning around, dissolved in the gray heart of the wood with as little noise as his appearance had produced. _


	11. On the scale

_Thank you for reading this, and for your feedback. _

_Review, if you have time and wish. _

_Oops. Sorry if it was unavailable for some time – I've noticed there were a couple of slips to be changed. _

_**Chapter 11**_

_**On the scale. **_

_More love or more disdain I crave,_

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...Sweet, be not still indifferent:_

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O, send me quickly to my grave,_

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...Or else afford me more content!_

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Or love or hate me more or less,_

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For love abhors all lukewarmness. _

- Charles Webbe

"So, my heart…," Tarlangion let her lean on his hand, while she was settling down on a fallen tree, "So," repeated he, straightening up easily, "When are you going to finish with this farce?"

Aerwain looked down, fingering the tassel of her belt. From the very beginning of this "walk" she knew the question would be insonified sooner or later. It wasn't for nothing that Tarlan led her away from where there was any chance for them to be overheard by idle ears or spotted by idle eyes.

"Farce?" echoed she in feigned surprise. Now that the matter was finally raised, she felt somewhat relieved.

"Your betrothal," explained Tarlangion courteously, "Do you really intend to hang this millstone of a husband over your neck?"

"Why not?"

"Oh, come on, Aerwain!" he laughed a dry harsh laughter. Aerwain was alerted by the sound of her name on his lips. He used to avoid addressing her this way, invariably falling for pet names or skittish endearments, and she found herself quite satisfied with it, as it allowed her to turn any of his footsies into joke and answer in suchlike manner, not being obliged to put any feeling into her replies.

"Very well, I am marrying Haldir, if that's what you wanted," said she evenly.

"No, that's definitely what I wanted least of all," sniffed he.

"How it might bother you, I wonder?"

Tarlangion measured the clearing with long, nervous steps. He was angered, she guessed. She should have been proud and glad, perhaps, that the thought about her upcoming marriage troubled him so much. She could have taken it for a sign of jealously, which would, in its turn, mean that he loved her.

Yes, she did trace jealousy in what he did and said, even though he hadn't said much, but that jealousy seemed to her akin to the spite he held against his sister's husband. It was born by proprietary feelings rather than by affection.

"I hate seeing you sacrifice yourself the way you do," replied he with temper.

"Thank your sister for that," parried Aerwain. If he was so unsettled by the situation, he should have gone at Gwilwileth instead of bringing her here and making her go through another wrangle. And he should have done it much earlier.

"My sister plays by her own rules. Who obliged you to follow them?"

"Tarlangion, as far as I understand, we both know how came that I decided to marry him," she was impatient to stop milling the wind, "What do you need to hear from me now?"

"I need to hear that you didn't give up."

"It's too late to do anything," she marveled at how easily the words left her mouth, "Besides, I'm not the only one from whom Gwilwileth compelled a sacrifice. If you are right, and this marriage is a farce, Haldir is a victim, too."

Another pile of laughter, this time more jeering, cut her off.

"The sweet and generous Haldir!" Tarlangion motioned to bow deeply before the invisible March Warden, "Do you think I'm blind to how he looks at you? Or are you blind yourself? After what happened I wouldn't be surprised if he quit praying to Valar and commenced praying to Gwilwileth. Such a blessed benefactress! Without her he wouldn't hope to touch you with a finger!"

Aerwain took a deep breath. She wasn't in the least affected by his insinuation at the address of Haldir. Her brother pronounced something like this so many times that she simply learned to dodge such hints. Even though now it was said by someone other than her Beleg, she didn't believe it more.

No matter whether she wanted to believe it or not.

"And who would? You, Tarlan?"

"That would be more natural!" he spat out, tossing his head up arrogantly.

She stared at him in detached amusement.

"Why so?" asked she - half-curiously, half-mockingly. It was startling how vain he could be. Haldir would never allow himself to say such a thing.

She almost pitied Tarlangion. If one dug deeper, he couldn't be compared to Haldir in anything. He was, indeed, younger and less withdrawn, but now it appeared to mean so little… He sounded childish. Selfish.

She preferred not to think how immature her own jumping from dislike to attachment and back could seem. Knowing how badly the self-questioning turned for her, she simply let it go al last.

Under her level gaze Tarlan sobered up.

"I'm sorry, my heart," he smiled, although not as guiltily as he should have. In fact, the smile was somewhat annoyed, "That was a stupid thing to say."

"That was," agreed Aerwain with eases.

"I just worry about you. It's all a big mistake."

"You shouldn't, Tarlan," it suddenly occurred to her what she could do to end this useless conversation, "Perhaps, the luck was mine?" added she with an air of the gravest sincerity, "Perhaps, I've been waiting for it? Don't you know how I always felt towards Haldir?"

She spoke in a deliberately serene voice, looking directly into the light, mistrustful eyes.

"When was that? Four hundred years ago? More?" snorted Tarlangion, but his tone wasn't as confident anymore.

"Some of us are not as fickle as Gwilwileth… or you," purred Aerwain, holding in the kindling anger, "I may as well still have a soft spot for him, don't you think? What if I love him?"

"Forgive me, my heart, but that's plain ridiculous!"

"Why wouldn't I? Isn't he noble? Isn't he handsome? What girl wouldn't dream of making him hers? I'd actually thank Gwilwileth, too. I didn't even hope he would pay attention to me."

Pale and wrathful now, the ellon shook his head slowly.

"I do not believe you," claimed he on a low note.

"I do not ask you to."

Tarlangion whipped away, hissing something rough under his breath.

"So that's why you allowed him to turn me out of the house then," muttered he.

"You didn't return," Aerwain shrugged her shoulders, refusing to let him shift the blame on her, "You didn't even try to do anything. Neither after, nor before. "

"Well, then I will now," said he resolutely, "I'm offering you a chance. We have relatives in Mirkwood, remember? Let me take you there."

Against her will, she gazed at him with her eyes wide open. The sudden proposal still managed to beat her out of the state of near numbness.

"Like whom will I appear in Mirkwood?"

"Like my fiancée."

"I never said I wanted to marry you," objected she with even deeper surprise.

"Say it now," demanded Tarlangion, grasping her hand.

Taken aback, Aerwain for a moment wondered what was wrong with her, if her second offer of a hand in marriage was this romantic.

"What if you change your mind when we are there?" she wanted to know, "Or later? What shall I do then?"

"Do you not trust me?"

"Does anyone?" she derived no pleasure from sounding so cruel, yet the whole thing started to exhaust her. She wanted to wave aside everyone, like importunate flies, and be left alone to try and regain her peace of mind.

"Can't you see, you silly thing, that Haldir's using you? He wants you, and he seized on the opportunity. How can you believe someone who takes advantage of your misfortune?"

"Don't you, yourself, do it now, Tarlan?" asked Aerwain tiredly. "You are no better than he is. And he at least tries to save my good name. What will my family say if I elope with you?"

"How can you care about it?"

"How can you not?"

Tarlan pressed his lips sternly, his brows almost meeting over the bridge of his nose.

"Don't think he is going to give you what you need," warned he harshly, "He'll keep that straight face whatever there is. You are going to marry a marble statue."

That was a little too much already. Aerwain narrowed her eyes spitefully. What made them all think they knew what she needed? First Beleg, then Haldir, and now this … lady-killer.

"If you say he wants me," she compelled herself to smile slyly, "I'm sure I'll think of something to make him show his love when I want it."

Tarlangion gave a start, looking at her as though it was the first time he saw her.

"Enjoy your happy marriage, then, " he forced through his teeth finally.

"Don't worry, I will," returned she in the same angry strain.

Not having offered to see her back home, Tarlan stormed away, darker than a rain-cloud.

Letting out a short sigh, Aerwain suddenly discovered that she was shivering violently, may be, with red-hot ire, which was spreading inside like a guileful disease.

It was some curse of a day. Bad luck all around.

She longed to get back to her chamber and creep into the bed to sulk there with nobody to bother her. Egoistical, thick-headed orcs - everyone!

Aerwain squeezed her eye-lids till they hurt. She needed to jerk herself up and crawl home.

With that salutary thought she opened her eyes again, and had to shrink back at the sight of the newcomer, who stood between the trees motionlessly, patiently waiting for her to notice him.

"Oh," was all she could pronounce.

How intelligent, mocked someone inside her. A Vala wouldn't say it better.

With a nod Haldir approached her to place a short kiss on her hand.

"Aerwain," greeted he quietly.

"You've come back," stuttered she. Another wise conclusion.

"Just now," he studied her blushing face, trembling hands, dishevelled hair, thrown all around her shoulders, "Has anything happened? I was told you'd gone away in the morning, so I've been searching for you."

His even, calm tone angered her suddenly. How could he always be so placid?

"I was going home already," said she coldly.

"May I accompany you?"

"As you wish."

They walked in silence, and little by little Aerwain began to grow softer.

The drops of dew, shiny like moonstones, were cold against her bare soles. The greenish-gray of the wood was getting duller, drowning in nightly haze. Somewhere far above their heads the light of the first torches glimpsed between broad leaves.

Her dress was too thin for late walks on the outskirts or Lothlorien. Soon the cool fog, rising from the ground, ceased pleasing her. Aerwain huddled up, subconsciously drawing nearer to her silent escort in want of some warmth. As if having felt it, the March Warden as tacitly took off his heavy dark-gray cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. For a moment his arms clasped around her body, and all of a sudden Aerwain was overwhelmed with almost an irresistible desire to prolong the embrace, to feel how he would flinch in a momentary amazement before pulling her closer to him…

Almost breathless of a hot wave, which came from nowhere and covered her from head to foot, she stopped still so abruptly that the Warden ran against her, not having managed to unclench his grasp. For an instant they were immobile.

"Milady Aerwain?" questioned Haldir, leaning to her solicitously. His breath scalded Aerwain's already burning cheek, making her wince in strange pain and shrink back. Surprised by her behaviour, the Warden tried to move away, perhaps, to look into her face…

"No!" she cried out, catching at his arms, which were still lying on her shoulders. Haldir stiffened, as though having turned into stone under her touch.

"No," repeated Aerwain, now in whispers, "I'm … cold."

Heady, bittersweet smell of grass embraced her, creeping into her very being. Steely interlacement of muscles under her palms flinched and relaxed – Aerwain was suddenly afraid that if he let her go, she wouldn't have enough strength to remain on her feet. _What happens to me_, she wondered, in vain trying to repress giddiness. _What is it?_

The Warden stirred behind her back. Aerwain gave a start, but he didn't allow her to consider any escape. With slow, leisured care his arms brought her against his chest, which seemed flaming hot to her unexpectedly. Even through the thick cloak she felt how heavily his heart was beating. As heavily as her own one.

"Aerwain…" the notes of Haldir's voice became hoarse.

Eru, what was she doing? Instead of hating him for marrying her against her will…For making her belong to someone whom she didn't love and who didn't love her. Instead of running from him like from plague, she was turning herself into a laughing stock, melting of his nearness like a silly doting girl.

She will marry him. He will be by her side when she faces the Lord and the Lady, his lips will cover hers in an inevitable kiss, he will carry her away in his arms when the wedding feast is over and…

"Does it feel warmer now?" whispered the Warden, setting straight the cloak at her neck, "Shall I slip on the hood?"

"Kiss me," the words broke out before she realized what she was saying.

His hand froze halfway to the hood. In trembling silence drops of dew counted off moments, falling into the springy grass with muted jingle.

Not uttering a single word, the Warden unclasped the embrace and turned numb Aerwain to face him.

His eyes were completely dark – moonlight was drowning in them, flashing with dull, bewitching sparks. In thickening twilight his passionless face was marble-pale. She woke up from her reverie instantly. This ellon was not acquainted to her. She never even suspected he could be someone like _this._

Handsome. Almost unrecognizable now, although she couldn't say what had changed about him. He simply grew different, and this difference was striking. It wasn't surprising that she loved to stay by him in her childhood so much. Little Aerwain must have long noticed what kept escaping the attention of an Aerwain as a young woman.

Strong fingers griped her palm, but the touch was questioning, just like his glance, attempting to meet hers insistently.

"Milady…"

Barely audible whisper, merely a breath. Despair swept over her, black, deep anguish and bitterness. Why was he lingering? She needed him. His confidence, his protection, his consolation. His voice. His hands. She needed him. She missed him.

"Haldir!" the entire Lothlorien seemed to ring with her quiet supplication, "Kiss me."

The Warden sighed deeply and bent over to her, tense like a bow-string. Hot, slightly parched lips brushed against her temple, moved down her cheek, touched her lips... The kiss lasted just for a moment – almost immediately Haldir drew back, into the saving shadow, which didn't let her read the feelings, reflecting in dark and frosty azure of his eyes.

Tarlangion was right. She couldn't stand that. Nettled, angry Aerwain attempted to free herself, but the Warden didn't let her do it. Instead of that, he drew her closer to his body and practically forced her to recline her head against his chest.

"You didn't want it," uttered he levelly, stroking her tangled hair, "Do not deceive yourself, milady. You lied to lord Tarlangion, but a lie won't become verity, no matter…no matter how much one may want it."

Tears of offence were streaming down her face. He didn't believe her. Her silliness was hers only, and her feelings wouldn't be reciprocated anyway. The better for her, she decided in despair, let it be so. Let their kiss seem to him nothing but a whim of an aggravated girl.

"Let me go," she wanted the request to be firm, but her words were lost in a shameful sob.

"Please, my little one," he leaned his brow against her head, "Please, do not cry. I can not…"

His voice faltered.

"Let me go," reiterated Aerwain more calmly, "The home is near, I won't be lost."

Not waiting for answer, she slipped out of his arms – now unimpeded. The remnants of her dignity were enough just to walk to the rim of the clearing in more or less confident manner. It was unbearable to know that her each step was followed by a piercing, grave stare, and not to be able to say what emotions were concealed behind this impervious curtain.

She looked back just for a moment. In a twinkle her body was trapped in the circle of heavy arms once more. Pliable, like vines and unbreakable, like fetters of mithril. It took Aerwain an instant to realize that it was the force she couldn't fight, even if she wanted. But she didn't.

The palm flew up her body softly, barely ghosting against the cloak. She arched her back, closing her eyes from the unbearable warmth, which was spreading over every inch of her skin. Carefully, with the tips of his fingers the Warden stroked her cheek. Her eye-lashes remained tightly shut when the second kiss brought their lips together.

Through the haze of dizziness Aerwain felt how slowly Haldir was kissing her, as though afraid to scare her off with a bolder caress. Wincing each time she ventured to answer his imploring mouth, he strengthened the embrace more and more until she guessed he wasn't giving himself the full account of his motions.

And that was different, too. She flinched as his tongue slipped against her parted lips, and the kiss deepened, losing the last drop of chastity that had remained in it up to now.

But that was what she craved for, wasn't it? Hadn't she asked for it herself?

Suddenly Haldir broke the kiss, stepping, practically starting back from her with a husky, rough half-cry. Muscles on his face quivered; he raised his hands quickly, hiding the sparks of madness in blue chasms of his eyes. "Aerwain!" groaned he with stunning hopelessness.

For some time it seemed that the hard breath would shatter his chest. However, the sound was gradually growing less audible – having dropped down his arms, the Warden muttered something, in which it was impossible to make out anything except the last words… _"…doing with me."_

"Forgive me," he said tonelessly at last, "I'm ashamed of my lack of restraint."

Blushing, Aerwain shrank back from the ellon, whom only a minute ago she was ready to love unconditionally. Lack of restraint! So that's what this kiss was for him? The sign of unrestraint – of shameful unrestraint, to that? Then what could he tell about her, who offered him the opportunity to discredit himself so "indecently"?

_You will marry a marble statue… _

Was his vanity so boundless? Was the chance to save his face whatever happened the only aim of his existence?

Well, the strategy was a wise one. And what befitted one Elf, could prove useful for another.

"Don't trouble yourself," advised Aerwain, when it seemed to her that her voice regained enough firmness, "Nobody saw you."

Haldir hadn't yet mastered himself completely, and at the sight of his renewed dismay Aerwain felt malign triumph. She wanted to injure him as much as he had injured her with his excessive, inappropriate vanity.

"Nobody is of any concern to me," retorted he harshly. Agitation, almost passion trickled through his fake calmness, and it appeared that in an instant he would discard the mask once and for all, realizing the fruitlessness of this fight. But it wasn't her intention to allow him to refuse something he had always strived for.

"It's not such a big secret, … milord," remarked she in a cool, official tone. She didn't call him by the name.

Years of associations within the strict limits of greetings and farewells were not lost on her, coming to the rescue the moment she needed it most. She didn't think of why her attitude wounded him. She just went on with it.

The severe cold in her voice appeared to pour over the Warden like icy water.

"How should I treat your answer, milady?" he breathed out.

"As a praise to your independence," enunciated she and turned away with artificial indifference. He'll pay for everything to the full and in his own coin, "Goodnight."

"Milady!"

Looking back, she barely raised a brow.

"I've brought you ring," this time his indifference matched hers, and only deep inside his impenetrable eyes something desperate was writhing – probably the irritation, caused by her mocking manner, "Perhaps, you'd like to see it?"

"No, thank you," replied she offhandedly, "I do not doubt that you chose something decent enough for _your_ wife."

With an air of defeat he lowered his eyes.

"Goodnight," repeated Aerwain and, not being able to restrain herself, faintheartedly added, "Milord Haldir."


	12. Tell me more

_**A/n.**__ Thank you, guys. Your feedback means much to me. :) Hope you like this chapter.__ Review, pretty please. _

_**Chapter 12**_

_**Tell me more**_

_And as at dawn across the level mead_

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On wings impetuous some wind will come,_

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And with its too harsh kisses break the reed_

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Which was its only instrument of song,_

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So my too stormy passions work me wrong,_

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And for excess of Love my Love is dumb._

--- Oscar Wilde

Only four days left…

Or three, to be completely honest, because this one was nearing its end already.

The evening stole into Lorien unhindered, embracing Aerwain as she walked through the wood reluctantly, a parcel with her wedding dress clutched against her side. She fetched it from the weaver's daughter half-a-day ago. Much to the girl's distress, she refused to try it on, alleging the lack of time and getting off with some polite remarks about the daintiness of the work and her satisfaction with it. One way or another they will all have the chance to evaluate the garment during the ceremony.

In spite of the late hour, she didn't feel any particular wish to return home. Her parents were away on a visit to some of their friends and were not likely to come back until morning. As for Beleg, he had long assumed a habit of disappearing Valar knew where at the first signs of an approaching night. She would have to pass another evening in complete solitude. A bright prospect, nothing to say. Although it would probably do her good – by way of a preparation for a long chain of similar uneventful lonely evenings, that were waiting for her in her married future.

Having climbed up the mallorn - rather clumsily, because of the bulky parcel - for the first time during this whole day she sighed with relief. Someone was home. The sitting chamber was illuminated brightly, the warm light pouring out to gilt the tracery of branches and to draw quaint yellowish spots on the smooth floor of the outer platform. Through one of the windows she caught sight of Beleg, leaning against the wall with his arms folded on a broad chest and his head tilted a little as though he was listening to somebody attentively.

Aerwain was a bit displeased. When she thought about merrier an evening, she didn't mean she would love to toss about, entertaining an unsought visitor, whoever he or she might be.

Absorbed in the talk, Beleg didn't pay any attention to her appearance, and Aerwain grew as bold as to sneak up closer to the window.

If the guest is not to her liking, she'll walk for some more time till Beleg is alone again.

"…I'm giving up. I do not know what to do."

She recognized the deep, slightly overbearing notes easily. Haldir.

A steady voice of a steady person. If only he didn't always speak like he was lashing or secretly deriding someone…

During the last few days he avoided getting in her view with persistence, which was not inferior to her own wish not to catch his eye. When he chanced to call on, she withdrew to her chamber and stayed there until she heard the door close behind him. More often than not it happened quickly, which only confirmed her supposition that the visits were dictated by the sheer propriety. Once or twice she didn't manage to find a decent excuse for an escape, and they both had to live through an awkward exchange of courtesies, during which she did her best not to blush and babble rubbish, her cheeks and mouth almost burning at each memory of their kiss. As a result, she stumbled on every second word, making it look like she'd rather go and find herself a better pastime than a conversation with him. And it wasn't such big a lie, after all.

She couldn't say she didn't wish to see Haldir. But whom she wanted to see was that frostily-passionate ellon, in whose arms she felt she could let off all her cares. Whose touch she relished absent-mindedly, like one relishes the caress of a late summer sun…

Meanwhile whom she met was a perfectly, pronouncedly civil friend-of-a-family, with his manners smooth and his composure adamant.

As if by mutual consent, they avoided racking through the happenings of that day. He showed her the ring. She accepted it – not without gratitude, for it was worth it. End of the story.

What trouble could bring him here now?

Spurred by natural curiosity, Aerwain approached a little more and stood by the window-jamb noiselessly, convincing herself that she wasn't eavesdropping. They could notice her any time. She just didn't hurry to reveal her presence, that's all.

She saw Beleg tear his back off the wall and stretch himself lazily, his eyes half-closed.

"I believe you are telling it all to the wrong person," said he seriously, "I helped you with all I could. Wait for Aerwain."

Aerwain frowned in puzzlement. Less than anything she could expect they would be talking about her. Perhaps, she really should leave before she heard anything that wasn't destined for her ears.

"She won't wish to speak to me," uttered the same voice bitterly.

No, she must have been mistaken. It couldn't be the March Warden. The Warden that she knew couldn't pronounce such a thing, or if he could, it would be said matter-of-factly. This ellon sounded hurt. Hopeless.

She moved closer gingerly, with the risk of being caught red-handed. A swift look into the room settled her doubts.

Whoever Beleg's guest might be, he had not only the voice of Haldir, but also the Warden's looks.

"You do not know it for sure," objected Beleg with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I do."

"Well, go on knowing it, then," much to her silent irritation, her brother sank into the chair, which faced the window directly. Thankfully, his habit of looking in the face of whoever he spoke to for the time being gave her some hope that she wouldn't be discovered too soon, "Wait, play with her, make her go through it all alone."

"What else can I do? Declare to her so that she may finally find out what a filth I am?"

"I've seen those filthier."

"She hasn't."

"Oh, you underestimate her. She's been friends with Gwilwileth and Tarlangion," gibed Beleg venomously, "Speaking of whom… What did Tarlangion want from my Aerwain?"

Haldir raised his eyes at last, and she had to hold her breath, staggered by the pure, unmasked hatred and disdain, which filled his stare and his words.

"This whelp asked her to elope with him," he spat out, "I barely… what's so funny, Beleg?"

"I'm wondering why he didn't offer her to slaughter the whole our family, too. Just because he started off so nicely," Beleg gave a small chuckle.

The Warden pressed his lips, knots of muscles swelling under his cheek-bones.

"I'd banish him out of Lorien for that," said he slowly and dangerously.

"I bet you would. What else did he say to her?"

A shadow passed along Haldir's face, wiping off the anger. He stooped again, the flame in his eyes reduced to smoulder.

"Truth," admitted he hoarsely, "He said that I wanted her mine and I took advantage of her. Isn't that what I did?"

"I assume you wouldn't have done that if there had been any choice."

"But I would have. I'm not a boy to be abashed and I was fully aware of my actions. I rejoiced, Beleg."

"Well, if you are so repentant, go and tell her everything. Do it today."

"I cannot. She will … understand that she's free to leave me."

Aerwain forgot when her heart had stopped beating. It just fell silent, her chest filling with resonant, aching nothing. Throughout the whole conversation she couldn't make herself bat her eyes-lashes at least once.

What she heard stupefied her. It wasn't astonishment. Astonishment would mean that she comprehended everything, while, taking into account the mishmash that her life had turned into not so long ago, reasoning didn't come easy to her.

Haldir loved her.

At least, that's what she could conclude.

Nonsense.

Or wasn't it?

"She defended me," the edge in his voice smoothed away - it was now as mild as a tool of command and sneer could be.

Did he speak about her, indeed? Was that caressing note meant for her?

"She's loyal," nodded Beleg, looking into the floor.

"I wish she were not."

"Oh, really," mocked her brother in a sudden burst of ill-will, "I don't think you'd be happier if she dragged your name through mud whenever she could. Well-deserved though it be."

Haldir rested his forehead on his clasped hands. He looked downcast and exhausted, almost like that first time she agreed to see him after the day when everything turned upside down.

"I see that she tries to get used to me," the statement was muted, like he was speaking through clenched teeth.

"She got used to you long ago," observed Beleg more placidly. He seemed to regret about his outbreak already.

"Yes," with a mirthless smile the Warden reclined against the back of the settee, "Like to this room or this chair."

"In that case, she would be sitting on you," hemmed her brother, "Or on me, which is more likely. I flicker before her eyes oftener than you."

"You do not encumber her," Haldir shook his head, refusing to catch up the less strained tone, "I do. I envy you..."

"You are jealous. That's called "jealous", Haldir."

"Yes. I am. I wish she were at ease with me."

"Haldir, she's been in awe of you for the last two-thirds of her life. And in childish rapture for the first third of it. She won't feel at ease with you unless you stop stiffening when she's near."

"Do you think I didn't try?"

"Yes, I do. And I'm starting to doubt in you, March Warden," Beleg became stern, "Perhaps, Aerwain was right and you do it all only to protect Gwilwileth. That's the only way I can explain why you keep torturing my sister and yourself. If you really loved her, it would hurt you more than it does now. And you wouldn't be so patient about how she treats you."

"I would have killed myself before I had had a thought of using Aerwain to cover my faults," responded Haldir calmly. Neither indignation, nor offence was there in the statement, like he was prepared for the accusation and admitted that it could be justified.

"I find it hard to believe. Aerwain might be inexperienced, but she's not blind not to see the difference between the two who kiss each other and the one who kisses and the one who resists it."

"I couldn't push Gwilwileth away. I do not fight women, and it was impossible to keep her off me and not to hurt her. I don't know what's come into her head."

"One can only suspect," murmured Beleg with the expression of profound distaste.

"And then there was Aerwain. I hoped she hadn't seen my face," Haldir broke off, bringing his hand against the bridge of his nose to rub it tiredly, "It's useless…At least that was something I could explain. What can I tell her now?"

"I love you, Aerwain," prompted Beleg in undertone, "I was angry when you scorned me. Yes, I failed you, but please… You make me desperate-"

"With the eloquence such as yours I wonder why you are unmarried, Beleg," the Warden interrupted him tonelessly.

"There's still time."

"Good luck," muttered Haldir with no particular enthusiasm.

With every word said her uncertainty was turning into assurance. It was silly to question her hearing any longer, as well as to pinch herself, expecting to wake up.

…_I prefer to be just Haldir…_

…_I valued your friendship…_

…_I'm not repulsive by touch, am I?.._

She took no heed of pretty much anything he said, accepting it all either for demonstration of politeness or for the diligent adherence to the role, enforced on him. But how could she possibly believe there was more than that?

…_Is it so unbearable to think of me as of your husband?.._

Aerwain couldn't help smiling, both touched and confused by the memory. One had to be extremely dim-witted not to see through the question. It could be asked only by someone, who hoped to receive a negative reply.

If he repeated it now, perhaps, she would find some other words for the answer. Or would settle with something more than words.

On the other hand…

What if she hadn't ended loving him?

Whether his motives were defensible or not, he had used her. He didn't save her out of disgrace. And even if he did…it wasn't the only way out, whatever he and Beleg might say. It was sheer luck that now she didn't mind it as much as she had before.

Of course, had he confessed of that, when asking for her hand, she would have turned him down most definitely. But it didn't mean he had a right to go on fooling her like this.

As if answering her thoughts, the Warden made himself heard again.

"Once she already told me she didn't love me. I accepted that as well as I accepted her telling me that she wouldn't bear to be my wife. But I won't force myself to hear that again."

"Then you will probably hear much more, my friend."

Haldir didn't deign to answer the gloomy prediction, and for some time the room plunged in silence.

Beleg's looked around aimlessly, his attention travelling from one corner to another. First he studied the tapestries on the wall, then lent a passing glance to the window... Aerwain almost believed him to be so deep in thoughts that it prevented him from seeing her, when he gave a slight start and his eyes gained back their sharp glint. He did notice her. An elusive smile of satisfaction for a moment raised the corners of his lips. Leisurely he stood up and made his way across the room to approach the window and lean against the sill so that Aerwain could touch him easily if she wasn't so afraid to move.

Beleg's smile broadened. He winked at her quickly.

"What is it?" the Warden grew suddenly alert, "What's there?"

Aerwain shrank back involuntary.

"Aerwain's crept up to listen to us," responded Beleg without a stir of a brow.

The answer was followed by the sound of Haldir's springing up to his feet so hastily that the settee tumbled back, the opportune rattle drowning whatever words the Warden chose as fitting the moment.

Aerwain was ready to dart down the mallorn to avoid the shameful exposure. Yet, the intention wore off the same instant, effaced by Beleg's crispy laughter.

"You are getting too old, Haldir," inferred he, having laughed his fill, "Where's your sense of humour?"

"I should downgrade you for that," growled Haldir. The settee scratched against the floor, as he picked it up and settled back on it.

Undisturbed with the threat to his career, her brother just chuckled. Aerwain smiled at him, receiving another mischievous wink in return.

It was not often that she could regard Beleg without sisterly prejudice. She was proud of him, but this pride still couldn't make her look at her brother with much seriousness. His indulgent attitude towards her was to blame for her not being able to evaluate his real self soberly. Yet now the depth of astuteness and sense, concealed under this seeming spontaneity, became clear to her to the extent where she was almost scared of it.

He could have answered "Nothing". But that would definitely have caused Haldir to prick up his ears and check it by himself. And Beleg had realized it before she could even think that they were in trouble.

By the contented spark in his eyes Aerwain concluded he congratulated himself on a witty idea, too. The impression, his little campaign had produced on her, was erased momentarily.

Strutter, thought she with tenderness.

"You don't want your future brother to have such a stain on his reputation, do you?" replied Beleg with a smirk, turning to face the Warden again, "Besides, I can rat on you to Aerwain any moment, so that would be too reckless of you."

"Don't even joke with this."

"Being serious, Haldir… You know you cannot be silent forever. Sooner or later you'll break and ask for her affection. Speak to her while you still can do it without outraging her."

"No," cut off Haldir abruptly. "Not now," added he, voice lower and huskier, "After the wedding."

Beleg uttered a skeptical noise.

"Do you know what my truth-loving sister will say to that?"

"I know."

The suffering, which rang in the response, sent Aerwain into shudder. She was unaccustomed to the signs of his helplessness. It was frustrating to realize that she was the reason of his misery. However, she clearly realized one more thing…

She was angry at him now. Yet if she really heard the truth only after the wedding…

She couldn't understand what he hoped for. Probably, no hope was left at all, for he knew her too well for that.

He was driven into the corner, and still said nothing. Why?

"And?" Beleg wanted to know.

"I'll beg for mercy, Beleg, Kneel, if it helps. She is kind. She will forgive me."

"Will she love you?" inquired her brother quietly.

The heavy silence was the only answer.

The Warden closed his eyes. It suddenly struck Aerwain how helpless he looked with his eye-lids down. As if together with allowing himself the luxury of temporary blindness he removed all the shields between him and the others and remained unprotected and open to whatever blow could come.

Yes, she would forgive him. Her vexation against him evaporated, leaving only slight sadness. She had already hurt him without even knowing it.

And still, she couldn't shake it all off her so easily.

"So, if I understood you correctly, you want to leave her no choice."

"I won't have her despise me now that I have no time to repair it."

"Confess today. And see what she chooses. I cannot give you my word, but I'm inclined to think she'll find strength to consider it. After all, Aerwain is not pathetic. Neither does she loathe you and crave for revenge."

"She'll call me a liar. And she won't let me near her again. I won't risk it."

"She didn't do that once, though she could. And don't persuade me it was because she was confused. She had three weeks to change her mind and rebel, and did she try to?"

"I must go," the March Warden stood up swiftly. It was clear that he wasn't going to continue the conversation. She couldn't blame him. Being completely honest, she wanted it to be over, too, for she had already heard all she needed.

"I gave you time, Haldir," the enmity came back into her brother's tone, and this time she wasn't sure whether it was just pretense to disconcert Haldir or he was really aggravated, "If you don't confess, I will. The moment she enters this door."

"I asked for your help not to be betrayed, Beleg."

Beleg bared his teeth in a smile that was more of a wolf's spiteful grin.

"Aerwain is my sister. To choose between you and her is not so much of a betrayal. For now I still believe it will do her good to marry you. But my patience is thinning."

That was high time for her to interfere.

Demonstrating the miracles of dexterity, Aerwain slipped by the window and entered the house resolutely.

"Good evening," sang she in her most melodic voice.

The elves whipped around simultaneously. Beleg's face lit up with a smile, not even allowing to suspect that a minute ago he was quite revved up. Haldir paled – just a bit – but this change didn't pass unnoticed for her.

"Beleg," she dropped the parcel onto the nearest chair and threw her arms round her brother's neck. _"Good girl,"_ he managed to mouth into her ear.

"Lord Haldir," uttered she less friendly.

This time, as the Warden was kissing her hand, she knew for sure that his one was on the verge of trembling, although he concealed it well.

"How was your walk?" asked he blankly, avoiding her direct stare.

"Most interesting," replied she in a reserved tone, "Hope you excuse me now. I have some work to do."

"If I may have a moment," Beleg took at her elbow with a clear intention to accompany her to the inner chambers.

"Beleg!"

Haldir made a quick step in her brother's direction and checked himself immediately, forced to control the agitation that, Aerwain guessed, had seized him.

"A mere minute, Haldir," reassured Beleg nonchalantly, ignoring the daggers of glances, the Warden was sending him, "I'll be right down."

Already at the door, she turned her head to give the Warden a passing look. His mouth twitched a little, as though he wanted to say something, but, having changed his mind, he just bowed to her jerkily.

So be it.

"How much did you hear?" whispered Beleg, as they appeared rather far inside the house.

"Enough," responded Aerwain shortly.

"So I thought. What are you going to do?"

"I do not know as yet," confessed she, raising her hands in a gesture of exasperation, "But I will think of something, don't be worried. And I won't make a row, if that's what you fear."

"Good girl," repeated Beleg with a nod, "Now…I must come back before Haldir gets here and tears out my tongue."

"Let him try," murmured Aerwain, yielding to slyness, which had been so uncharacteristic of her only a month ago.

She could swear that Beleg's reciprocal smirk was derisive and that she wasn't the object of this derision.

"Now I'm not so sure whom I should pity," answered he, having squeezed her hand affectionately.

No one, mused Aerwain with a little smile.

For now.


	13. Ready or not

A/n: I'm extremely grateful to those who read it

_**A/n:**__I'm extremely grateful to those who read it. And twice grateful for your nice, make-my-day reviews. Hope this chapter goes along nicely. ;) I cannot guarantee anything with it, but I promise that the next one may be of some interest. _

_Any mistakes or slips result either from my lack of brain or from my lack of sleep. _

_Review, please! I'm getting addicted to your feedback. Oh, and if anyone by chance likes to receive answers to the reviews, let me know. _

_**Chapter 13**_

_**Ready or not**_

_Who is it that, this dark night, _

_Underneath my window plaineth? _

_It is one who from thy sight _

_Being, ah, exiled, disdaineth _

_Every other vulgar light. _

_Why, alas, and are you he? _

_Be not yet those fancies changèd? _

_Dear, when you find change in me, _

_Though from me you be estrangèd, _

_Let my change to ruin be. _

- Sir Philip Sidney

An intricate tangle of lines and curves meandered on the fabric, obeying the touch of a sparkly needle. She had no clear picture of the embroidery's pattern or final appearance. The thread weaved on its own, as her hand was moved by nothing but her capricious, willful fancy. The cuffs of the tunic were already stiff with silver tracery, and now Aerwain was frowning over the collar, where more delicate and more painstaking needlework was required.

If only she were on time with it… She had no more than several hours before the dusk. And it was the last day.

The door screeched, letting in rather haggard Beleg. Since she had withdrawn herself from most of the everyday chores, he hardly had a minute of rest. In some inconceivable way he managed both to run errands to the rest of the family and to go to evening patrols diligently.

"Aerwain, can you –"

"Later," grumbled she, for a mere moment raising her head from the fabric.

"But-"

"Later!"

With a weary shrug of his shoulders Beleg lagged out.

"Beleg, wait!"

He stood still, looking at her questioningly.

"You are with me, aren't you, brother?"

A joker though he was, Beleg never failed to feel when the fun-making was over.

"Always, the heart of mine," replied he with the gravest air, "Do you need anything?"

"I do. If you are at home this night – and I hope you are – please, make sure our parents do not travel anywhere near my chamber by some chance."

A quick, keen look. He lowered his head in assent, which she had never doubted she would receive.

"I trust you are careful," was all he said. Aerwain could read the implication that lay beneath these words with easiness.

"Am I not your sister?" asked she unsmilingly.

A faint resemblance of a smirk touched Beleg's mouth.

"I'll be near," confirmed he on a soft note.

She nodded her gratitude a moment too late – he had already disappeared behind the closed door.

One problem solved. She had no reasons to question her brother's loyalty.

Running a hand against her tired eyes she yawned a little and returned to her sewing.

After almost three days of incessant work, her fingers refused to close around the needle. Her neck was also completely numb, for she neither lay nor took a sufficient walk for many an hour already, peeking out of the room only to replenish her stock of dark-blue and silver thread or settle another matter, connected with tomorrow's wedding.

The tunic itself was complete in no time. Even the fact that the last measurement remained untaken didn't hamper her. She was experienced enough to neglect it.

It could make her satisfaction complete if the embroidery demanded as little thought as sewing did.

She had to finish it today, by this very evening. Otherwise at least one part of her plan would be a certain failure.

Those days, though fleeting ones, gave her enough time to ponder over the new discoveries and come to a more or less firm conclusions. Years and years of living in one house with two scouts were not lost on her. It never yet happened that she had to craft strategies or make life-or-death decisions, but having started, Aerwain realized she was quite capable of that.

Surprisingly soon she came up with the scheme that was satisfactory if, perhaps, a little daring. Improper, even. But was there any alternative?

At first she was tempted to rush things right on. However, the better judgment prompted her that it would do no good to play with him lest she should set up Beleg. And so she had to content herself with leaving everything as it was. She still held to her detachment as he called on, with the exclusion, perhaps, that now their meetings more and more often reminded of those they had when he was nothing but her brother's friend and she was bound to him neither by word, nor by emotion. Only sometimes, at rare moments of light-mindedness Aerwain gave up to the urge to taunt him a little, softening her tone when she spoke to him…touching his forearm lightly, as she needed to attract his attention, and then "forgetting" to remove her hand for an instant or two.

The Warden didn't show any signs of welcoming those alterations in her usual attitude. Nor did he answer any of them. There was, however, a change to his manner that convinced her that they didn't pass unnoticed for him. He became more hesitant. More wary. Quite justly he had refused to take the unexpected truce in good faith.

The better for her. By the time she has her say he will have perturbed himself without any help on her part.

The last stitch lay side by side with its predecessors. Too exhausted to search for a knife, Aerwain leaned and bit off the thread in quite a childish way.

Thank Eru. She managed it.

Oh, how she longed for sitting back and taking a breath. Alas, it was only the first step that she'd taken.

Now there was another actor to be prepared for the upcoming play. Namely, herself.

It was her luck that her family held old traditions in such a high esteem. And that one of these traditions obliged a soon-to-be husband to spend a sleepless night by his fiancée's house, guarding her rest on the very eve of their wedding. A romantic rite, full of devotion and self-denial, it used to seem to her once. As the time passed, however, she began to suspect it was done to give fiancés a chance to intercept their beloved, in case the latter changed their mind about "living together happily ever after", and to plead the bashful or disobedient ladies back into their arms.

Whichever was true didn't mean much at the moment. What mattered was that she had an opportunity to play her game with Haldir.

He wanted to set her at bay, didn't he? Aerwain sniffed under her nose, smoothing out the wrinkles on the freshly-finished garment.

Well, she wasn't as unfair as that. She will offer him some choice.

If he chooses wisely, the tunic will be her wedding present for him.

If not…

She didn't want to think about it for now. Probably, then she'll have to keep the promise she gave to herself, cruel though it be to both of them.

She would give him this tunic to repay for the brooch. And cancel the wedding, whatever fuss it would cause. She wasn't a puppet to be jerked by the strings.

Varda, make him behave as she desperately hoped he would…

Having folded the tunic carefully, Aerwain put it over her bed-cover. One river was crossed. She had her pretext for luring the Warden in for a talk.

Like every time she realized a toilsome meeting was at hand, Aerwain felt an impulse to braid her hair or clasp it tightly. It gave her a feeling of protection and self-confidence, and what did she lack more than that?

But no, she couldn't yield to it now. No time for a sober touch-me-not air tonight.

She untied the belt of her dress resolutely. In a minute the unassuming daily attire was jerked off and shoved into the depth of the wardrobe. Another garb had long been waiting for its turn to replace it – cold, silverberry green and streamy like rainwater. Something she would hardly venture to show her mother…or whomever, on that point. It slipped on easily, sleek folds tickling her as they flowed down her body. The sensation was too new for her to call it all that pleasant. Just like that first kiss…

The more effort was spent on the preparation, the clearer she saw it all went far beyond a joke.

A worried, concentrated elleth glanced at her out of the shaded mirror.

What if she just let it go? What if she just went to bed and woke up tomorrow to bind herself with Haldir and wait for what the future had in stock for her?

No. She had gone too far to turn back. And she still had her pride.

"Haldir," whispered she uncertainly. The elleth in the looking-glass barely moved her white, stark lips.

That wouldn't do. At all.

"Haldir," repeated she. Just a little better. But still lame.

All of a sudden she chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. Look at her, mumbling like a timid child. Did she really need this ridiculous rehearsal? She didn't have to fake tenderness. She felt it.

A deep breath in… and out…

It was not the mirror her fingers skimmed against, but sleek fair hair. And it was not her reflection that showed before her, but the pale, lofty, alert face of her betrothed.

"Haldir…"

A small smile raised the corners of her mouth.

This round of hide-and-seek will be played by her rules.

Ready or not, March Warden…

* * *

The night was here. And he was here, too. She'd been watching him through laced shutters for more than half an hour already, and had never once gone beyond raising a timid hand to let it brush against the smooth wood and fall helplessly again. Her heart was ajar with itself. At one moment it throbbed severely, so that she could hardly draw in a sip of air, at another stood almost still, except for rare pangs, which made her cringe involuntary. It felt like someone was slowly driving sharp pins into her flesh.

At the very beginning of her vigil Haldir walked along the platform at random, throwing occasional short glances at her closed window. Yet, as time passed, he decided on a more comfortable position. A wise thing to do, considering he had a long night ahead. Now the Warden was simply sitting on the floor, reclined against one of the piers, which held the carved canopy of their talan. He appeared quite relaxed, one leg stretched, the other bent to give support to his loosely clasped hands. His eyes were fixed on the dark wall of the forest, and now and then he narrowed them a little as another spot of light came out and faded against the blackish-gray mist. Such nights must have been no novelty for him, for the posture he had chosen looked habitual.

Aerwain sighed deeply. She had to start with it sooner or later.

Much to her silent relief, the shutters went apart with little noise. Either her fiancé was deep in thoughts, or together with cunning she acquired uncommon dexterity, but he didn't react to her presence in any way.

"Haldir…"

The Warden gave a start and turned his face to her. And there was a good reason for that. Not only had she deliberately left out the title. The name itself sounded as it never had before. Mild. Appealing. Caressing.

She let the summon die off, scattered by the gentle breath of the night. Haldir was silent. Her appearance was evidently of no less surprise for him than her tone. To his credit, he mastered himself quickly. Yet she could still say one thing for sure. It was too smug of him to claim he wasn't the one to be abashed.

"Your servant," said he at last.

Aerwain suppressed a smile of content at the formal reply, that she now realized held much more than common courtesy. She couldn't but think that in some sense he was indeed in her power. Oddly, she now understood both Tarlangion and his sister, who rejoiced as another heart appeared fluttering in their clap-nets. Was this warmth, spreading inside her, called triumph? So simple a word for such a blend of feelings. But if it really was, her triumph was twice sweet, for this heart cost dear. And she needed it.

"I need to … talk to you," she stumbled quite unintentionally, which bothered her. If she was stuttering now, what'll become of her speech later?

"Could you come in?" invited she more firmly.

As discreetly suspicious, Haldir nodded and took himself up with little trouble.

"No," the request which was more like an order caught him on the way to the door, "Through the window."

It wasn't a part of her plan to let him march across the whole house.

The Warden frowned, sparks of alert and incipient worry lighting up in his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"I don't think it will be hard for you. Or will it?" Aerwain accompanied the answer with half-a-smile, in which nonchalance was as feigned as coquetry.

Not waiting for the third invitation, Warden stole into the chamber so swiftly, as if he had never been outside. Startled by the easy and skillful intrusion, Aerwain shrugged back in momentary wavering and immediately reproached herself for that.

Haldir didn't let it out of attention. With a grim chuckle he retreated closer to the window.

"I've finished with your tunic," mumbled Aerwain when she thought she could trust her voice at least in part, "I thought that… You won't refuse to wear it tomorrow, will you?"

It seemed to her that he had tarried longer than necessary before uttering an even:

"If it's what you want, Aerwain."

_I want you to dare and kiss me… _

Of course, she wouldn't say that out loud. Not until she was sure he deserved such a confession.

"Would you try it on now? I need to see if it fits."

Another short nod. He didn't believe her explanation, and was now lost in feverish conjectures. It was not hard to guess that none of his surmises was especially heartwarming.

As she added nothing more, Haldir had to speak himself.

"Is that it?" inquired he, pointing at the tunic, "May I?"

"Of course," affirmed Aerwain, "Or wait, I'll give it to you myself. Just take off this one."

His wide brows came together in a short-lived frown. Nevertheless, he pulled off the garment with perfect obedience, exposing a flat, tough-lined torso and muscles, which played under his skin leisurely as he moved. Shadows clung to him jealously, fondled his clean-cut chin, placed passionate kisses along his neck…

What a handsome fiancé she had. He had no aggressive, eye-striking appearance of Tarlangion, yet there was the calm, mature sheen of strength about him that a simple youthful vigour couldn't compete with. Reserved attraction.

No… Not reserved. Repressed.

Despite her promise, Aerwain didn't hasten to pick up the folded tunic and hand it to him. He won't get cold. She simply won't give him such an opportunity.

"Aerwain?"

"Yes."

"Something's wrong, isn't it?"

"It is," Aerwain agreed, looking down as if suddenly seized by embarrassment.

…Gwilwileth could be proud of her...

"What is?"

Her countenance must have confirmed Haldir's most unpleasant suppositions, for the question was brusque and strained.

One step. She was at the arm's length with him. Two more – and she knew she could feel his breath on her face, if she only raised her head. She did it slowly, giving him a chance to get a little more worried.

He was now at the last limits of tension. Lips drawn as in pain… A thin streak of a vein pulsating on his temple…

"I…" she cut off, clenching and unclenching her fists – genuinely hesitant now that the last bridge had to be burnt.

"Aerwain," the Warden captured her hand in his and brought it to his bare chest quickly, oblivious of the fact that she might not welcome it, "Please, speak."

Encouraged, Aerwain let the pause drag for another painful moment, and as the silence became fairly unbearable, enunciated with all the distinctiveness she was capable of:

"I fell in love, Haldir."


	14. Make it through the night

A/n: Thank you a million times for the kind reviews

_A/n: Thank you a million times for the kind review__s. I'm always touched by your feedback, really. _

_Read and comment on, if you want… :) Sorry if anything's wrong. _

**Chapter 14**

**Make it through the night**

_Surprised by all that love is_

_  
I remain alert in stillness_

_  
Hurt by all that love is_

_  
I yearn for tenderness_

Defeated by all that love is

_  
at the truthful mouth of the night_

_  
Forsaken by all that love is_

_  
I will grow toward you._

- Frantisek Halas

Pain in her hand. Her knuckles crackled, squeezed together so tightly that more pressure could only drive them into each other.

"It hurts," complained Aerwain in whispers, hoping it wasn't too late when he finally realized she wasn't made of stone.

Slowly the Warden shifted his gaze to his fingers, which closed down hers in iron circle. Her weak remonstrance appeared to remain unheard – the grip was as hard, if not harder.

She was seriously alarmed now.

"Haldir."

With a slight wince he let her go, motions sluggish and uncertain, like those of a blind one. A biting cramp swept along her palm as she attempted to straighten her hand properly.

"I'm sorry," uttered Haldir unevenly, "I didn't want to… I'm sorry."

The half-a-smile, which Aerwain braved, was more than insincere.

None of them moved away from each other. She couldn't speak until he spoke himself, and he didn't.

Thankfully, rather soon the Warden broke the tedious silence.

"You say you … love someone," the words obviously refused to leave his mouth, and still he took hold of himself. The end of the phrase sounded almost calm.

"I did say that," confirmed she, never ceasing to watch him. How pale he suddenly became… Pale and taut, bewilderment fighting through the mask of self-control, which had not so long ago seemed to her to be glued onto him for good.

He pulled back for an instant only to step closer again, close enough to send Aerwain into the shiver of anxiety. She had expected that he would react violently, but this cold resolution scared her.

"Beleg told you everything," the Warden exhaled, chilly blue eyes fastened upon her, "Didn't he, Aerwain?"

Aerwain shrugged back, losing her breath of astonishment. How could he guess? Was her plan that obvious?

Oh, she should have known better than to play with him.

She didn't dare to look up at him – too well she knew how easily she could betray herself with one single glance.

A stiff hand, which a moment ago nearly crushed over a dozen of her bones, lay on her chin and tilted it up more insistently than carefully.

There was something about his troubled look that reassured her. He was disturbed, but the emotions, of which his unrest was weaved, were not of the kind she could fear. His posture, his expression, his glance – everything screamed out a blatant plea to take back her avowal and readiness to forget that he had ever heard it. As though he compared the two evils and was eager to jump at the least of them.

He didn't accuse her of anything.

He implored.

"Beleg?"

She didn't manage to put enough of surprise into the question and stood frozen and prepared for an inevitable denunciation, but none came. Oddly, it was exactly the catch in her voice that did it. Animation vanished from Haldir's features.

"I'm sorry," repeated he in a dull undertone, "Don't pay attention. It's… about nothing."

She responded with a weak nod.

Once again he seemed to have decided that it was much better for him to keep distance. Aerwain did nothing to stop him. It wasn't time yet.

Going by Haldir's nervous shifting, he didn't exactly realize what to do with himself. First he headed to her bed, where the tunic was still lying, well forgotten, then motioned to return to her. Aerwain observed this tossing almost serenely.

A good hostess would offer him a seat.

She - wouldn't.

"I am flattered that you trust me so much, milady."

Aerwain wondered whether it was as new for the Warden to utter such an outright falsehood as for her – to hear it from him. His words dripped with mortification and barely restrained despair.

"Aerwain," corrected she mildly.

"Oh yes," Haldir smiled a harsh, crooked smile, which disappeared at once, "Aerwain."

She smiled back, pretending not to have noticed how strained his mirth was.

Each new pause was longer and heavier than the previous one. The clearer it was that this time she wouldn't allow him to hold his tongue, the less tranquil the Warden grew.

"I don't ask who he is," dropped he in the same abrupt manner.

"It's of no importance," she shrugged a little.

The Warden nodded a dismal assent. Luckily for Aerwain, he, indeed, had no intentions to interrogate her, for he presumptuously concluded he had guessed it all without her help.

As though suddenly weakened he reclined against the window jamb - face towards the room, shoulders down like under a heavy burden - and stared past Aerwain unseeingly.

Wicked. It was a wicked thought to be let in, but she suddenly craved for knowing what his jealousy was like. Did he picture her in the arms of Tarlangion, breathless of a passionate kiss they shared?

Did he recall how she used to freeze in his own embrace or to banish him with a cold word?

Was it anger or sadness that made him frown now, drawing those hard and deep lines between his fine brows?

"I cannot and I will not deceive you, Haldir. I have an opportunity to be with him. There's only one thing that stops me."

It took her a long time to learn that half-truth was better than any lie. And it came to her much easier. The most skillfully crafted story wouldn't sound as natural as a frank confession she pronounced. She said everything. Except for the name. He was quite free to think it up himself, and, judging by his gloomy silence, he chose the wrong one. Just as she had expected.

"Do you remember the thing you promised me? That I'd be free to act as I desire if I…"

"…if you gave your heart to another," ended Haldir blankly, "I remember it. Do you want your freedom, Aerwain?"

A limpid, matter-of-fact intonation. If only his face was as expressionless as this feeling-deprived voice. Did he forget to watch himself or did he simply believe that the half-darkness, warm and deceitful, will hinder her from reading the story of his grievance off those hard lineaments?

"Yes. And no."

He had a full right to raise a brow at the inconsistency of her reply. However, there was no real feeling behind the expression, as if he did so because it was a customary reaction – not because she surprised or amused him.

"I thought a lot about it," Aerwain approached to stand by him. The position had its disadvantages, for now she couldn't keep an eye on him as freely. But her role demanded to be as near the Warden as possible and thus she chose hearing over vision, "No matter what's happened, I respect you deeply, and I care for you… What is it, Haldir?"

The sound he produced could be born both by temper and hopelessness.

"I never deserved it," demurred he with sharpness that bordered upon animosity.

"How can you say that?" she was gentle, reproachful, "You tried to protect me. You practically destroyed your reputation. I cannot bring you into more shame. You won't be ridiculed through my fault…"

Aerwain cut off, unsure whether she was saying too much to be believed. A sidelong glance at the Warden was of some comfort – he showed no signs of suspicion whatsoever.

"But I love him," she went on hushfully, "And I am not sure I'll manage to fight it on my own. It's been too much already."

No reply came. He withdrew into himself, having at last realized that there would be no mercy for him.

"Haldir?"

"I'm listening to you," responded he impassively.

It was so easy to imagine…and so hard to pronounce.

"Haldir, am I…"

Couldn't she go through without stuttering?!

"Am I desirable?"

She could congratulate herself on managing to astonish him again – and twice within an hour now.

Haldir swung to her promptly, the vacant look slipping off him in a blink of an eye. She was serious, waiting for the response in complete silence. After all, shrewd as he was, he still wouldn't see through her. It was only her secret how hard she was trembling inside.

"Do you doubt it yourself, milady?" asked he on a quiet note.

Oh no, he wouldn't leave her with that.

"How would I know?" Aerwain's throat was drier than a dead autumn leaf, but she still kept a determined air, "Nobody told me. Am I?"

It wasn't at once that she received her answer. The Warden temporized, his mind of a strategian in search of a possible reason of her interest. If she could, she would advise him not to try in vain.

"Much so," admitted he after some moments of hesitation.

"Desirable enough for you?"

That was when something in him finally gave way. He flinched and looked away quickly.

"I do not…"

"Haldir!"

He shook his head, perhaps hardly aware that he was doing it. It didn't even occur to Aerwain to interpret it as a reply, so clearly his unrest testified that this silent denial had nothing to do with his opinion of her. He was simply driven into corner. And she had to do all that depended on her to keep him there.

Against her expectations, no wall grew between them, like he completely and irrevocably forgot how to defend himself. It appeared he'd rather kneel like he had promised instead of uttering a plain "yes" or "no".

If he lied…If he only lied…

As if she had thought of something to do in this case! All her plan was built on a truthful answer.

If he lied, she would probably be forced to end this talk on the spot without any delay.

It was a relief to hear him sigh in defeat. Alert and reluctant, the Warden raised his head to meet her inquiring stare.

"You are truly a temptation, Aerwain," said he unsteadily.

She couldn't help smiling, enchanted by the way her name slid down his tongue. Regardless of the strain in his voice, regardless of his reserved manner, the confession was sweet to her, sweet and heady like a draught of old wine. What did it take him to be always that sincere? That impassioned…

Well, temptations should be persevering. If she was a temptation, he would have to resist her.

With that thought Aerwain unleashed herself fully, waving off both shyness and the pangs of conscience. He wasn't likely to judge her.

The Warden drew in a sharp breath, when her fingers ran against his skin lightly – up from his abdomen to his chest. She did it with pointed gentleness, so that there left no doubts that she was stroking, not just touching him.

"Aerwain…"

A stifled moan… He shuddered under her palm, but didn't attempt to draw back, and she ventured further into this whirlpool. With a free hand she cupped his cheek, forcing him to bend down to her. He followed the compelling gesture eagerly, his eyes two drops of liquid blue fire.

The Warden's arm stole around her waist and tarried before pulling her closer to his naked torso. Yet even now there was no certainty in the embrace. Aerwain perceived, divined that he tarried in want of encouragement, prepared to jerk back at the first sign of her resentment.

Well, there was no reason to deprive him of what she was going to give him anyway.

Gingerly she brought her mouth against his one, putting all her pent-up tenderness into a kiss. Too benumbed, perhaps, to react properly, Haldir didn't attempt to return the lingering, soft caress, but his breathing was jumpy as she stopped and his eye-lids tightly shut. He didn't let her go, nor did he mind it when she clung to him on her own, having decided that it could do no harm if she savoured the moment a little.

He bent even lower, giving another shaky sigh to welcome her hand which buried itself in his hair.

"Aerwain, what are you doing?"

Husky whisper this time. The touch of lips felt kiss-like on her neck. But no, he was not kissing her. It couldn't be called a kiss, for his mouth never stayed at one place, travelling up almost to ghost against her ear and coming down again to brush over the curve of her shoulder.

"Not letting myself escape. I don't want to betray anyone, Haldir."

He growled an incoherent protest into her collar-bone. Aerwain felt, or rather guessed that another motion of his will take away the last drop of her resolve.

She had to say it…had to…

"Will you…will you make me your wife?" murmured she into the fair strands at her face, "Now…here… Don't give me a chance to leave with him. Please, help me."

A harsh, violent fit of shiver shook his whole body. He stood still, as if she had suddenly hit him.

One heartbeat. Two.

The Warden came to life to back away from her – releasing her body with painful slowness. Three steps. Four.

At the count of six he stopped. Raised his head. Glanced up and away immediately after his stare stumbled upon the triangle of bare skin, which her crumpled dress revealed.

"Haldir."

Seemingly unable to fight the mildness of the appeal, the Warden looked at her again, and must have regretted he had, seeing her push the green silk off her shoulders slowly.

His hand flitted up in haste to cover his eyes.

"Stop," begged he in a cruel, raucous voice, totally alien to Aerwain's ear, "For your sake."

Holding in a smile, she pulled the dress back obediently.

Haldir dropped the hand down again. He had been pale at the start of their conversation, but that pallor couldn't in the least compare to the ghastly whiteness that poured over his face now.

"Why do you hold me in such contempt?" demanded he in an accent of a deepest offence.

"But I do not…I value you highly and…"

"I'd rather have you love me," interrupted he, his tone low and desperate.

…She'd clap her hands in delight, like a little girl. If only she could.

Watch yourself, Aerwain.

Deliberately uncomprehending, she moved towards him.

"No," with an abrupt gesture Haldir beckoned her to stay where she was, "No, be kind. Don't come up."

"I thought…I hoped you were not completely disillusioned with me. I wanted to ask for forgiveness when you finally discovered that I had yearned for our wedding...," the Warden stretched his lips in a mirthless smirk, "…for you. But what's the use admitting I'm a selfish wretch if you already think me to be one?"

She was obliged to conjure a reply. Her silence was starting to drag for too long, while the situation called for at least some reaction on her part. She had to speak - not just to speak - to be surprised, unbelieving, indignant.

Yet was it possible to feel such elation and to keep it in?

"You yearned for me?"

"Yes," acknowledged Haldir without further wavering, "Ardently. With how much trust will you grant me now?"

He didn't avoid her glance, didn't halt to choose words anymore. She guessed that it gave him relief to give up struggling and lying.

"Do I sound insane to you…my heart?" smirked he bitterly, with infinite spite mimicking the one whom he had to blame for his misfortunes, "My love. My own one. I know I never told you anything like that. I've been too listless for you. But it wouldn't please you to hear it from me, would it? It doesn't now. I will leave it to him."

He broke off, may be, to give her a chance to speak her mind, but she didn't catch at the opportunity.

"Won't you say anything? Won't you ask how I could do this to you?"

She would never have believed he could ask for more humiliation freely. And still, there he was. Haughty as ever, and yet so fully resigned, his heart ripped up and exposed to her. His pride in shreds. Where did he find strength to practically put a knife into her hands and invite her to continue the torture?

She would hate herself for giving him so much pain.

Later.

"It doesn't matter now," replied she, carefully taking every bit of satisfaction out of her tone to replace

it with a more appropriate feeling of despondent resolve.

The anguish, splashing in Haldir's eyes if for a moment, manifested that her reaction grated upon him to the right extent.

"May be," agreed he with a weary nod, "Will you order me to go?"

With every moment Aerwain found it more and more difficult to adhere to the role she had written for herself.

"You are silent," said the Warden, not having received a wished-for - or rather dreaded – reply, "Send me away, I'll accept that."

It was her turn to shake her head.

"It will not change anything. It will still be a betrayal on my part. If what you say is true… Of course, I cannot treat you as I did. And of course, you … you could be more honest with me. But it doesn't mean a thing now. Perhaps, it's for the better," despite his pleading look, Aerwain drew near again, "If you love me, you will make it more …agreeable for me."

The last phrase was pronounced in timid undertone, just like the question that followed it:

"Don't you want to have me all for you?"

"I cannot," uttered he with difficulty.

"No one will come here," insisted she, "I took care of that."

With a deep breath the Warden held at her wrist to place a slow kiss on her hand which was tracing the outline of his stern mouth.

"What will happen, Aerwain?" whispered he against her fingertips, "If I refuse?"

"If you do, tomorrow I will be with the one I love," claimed Aerwain plainly, "Whatever it will take."

And again she said the very truth. She could add, of course, that she would also marry that certain "one". The one that was now all downcast and subdued before her. But no, not yet.

Patience.

Haldir chuckled sadly.

"Then…Thank you for making me believe you would agree to be mine."

"I can still be yours."

"No," steel resounded in his voice, as he shook off the veil of chagrin and tenderness to return to his usual unfaltering self, "I will not fall that low. Shall I warn everyone that we're cancelling the wedding?"

Aerwain let out a short sniff, in a blink of an eye tuning herself up for his prosy manner.

"In the middle of the night? We can do it when they gather tomorrow."

"I see," muttered he knowingly, "I will have to do it alone, won't I, Aerwain?"

So he thought she would elope right after the door…the window…was closed after him, and would leave him to deal with the embarrassment, that the wedding without a bride was, all by himself?

And he was ready to let it come, too…

"I don't know what you are talking about, milord Haldir," answered she. The effort she put into remaining self-protective, resulted in far frostier a rebuff than she had wanted.

"Take the tunic I sewed for you," added she before he managed to say a thing, "I still want you to put it on tomorrow."

He tried to nod, but the motion ended in nothing, not having started.

"As you say."

Aerwain watched the Warden clothe himself in silence. She didn't help him to fetch the tunic, so he picked from her bed himself and bowed a little by way of his appreciation.

"Haldir!"

Almost at the window he turned to her hail. Perhaps, it was a wrong thing to do, yet she just couldn't resist this urge.

Having cast aside the fake severity, she leaned into the silent Warden and wound her arms around him for an instant.

"Thank you for everything," she was quite sincere this time – in her gentleness, if not in her gratitude, "You are-"

Aerwain didn't finish, as her breath was caught in her chest all of a sudden. The exclamation of surprise hanging on her lips, she tried to move away - and failed, finding herself clasped in a fervent embrace.

A hot cheek lay against her head…

"Aerwain, have pity," he throated beggarly, sounds broken as if someone's rough hand was clutched around his neck, "Have pity, how will I let you go?"

Aerwain didn't stir. Neither did she say anything, secretly relishing her joy, but not yet eager to share it.

The shutters closed after him with a soft rustle. The last thing she saw was a glimpse of a hard and grim smile playing upon his mouth.

In the hush of the now empty chamber Aerwain allowed herself to smirk at last.

As a temptation, she was miffed. But as a soon-to-be bride…

…Patience.


	15. Things that change

_**A/n. **__The last but one chapter here. Hope __Khushbu__, who asked for Haldir's brothers, isn't disappointed. ;) Thank you for your comments, I really appreciate that you do not grudge your time and let me know you are reading this. A special piece of gratitude goes to __luxferre__ for her beta-work._

_A little announcement before we pass on to the chapter. Basing on some unambiguous requests, some passing jokes and some purely selfish motives, I've started a side-story, "Unbeliever", which dwells separately on __**Beleg**__. Those who want more of him are welcome to let me know so that I can inform them where and how it will be posted. Needless to say I'll be glad to share. :) The story will also include some more of Haldir and Aerwain, as well as other characters of "How long?"._

_Review, please? _

**Chapter 15**

_**Things that change**_

_Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you, _

_  
The love of all man's days both past and forever: _

_  
Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life, _

_  
The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours- _

__

And the songs of every poet past and forever.

- Rabindranath Tagore

"Are you going to be married any time today, sister?"

"I'm not your sister, yet, Rúmil," told Aerwain to the door, behind which the brothers of her future husband were languishing in idle expectation, "And while it's so, do not start to order me around."

For a certain reason she had planned to protract with her arrival to the ceremonial house, but now it seemed the delay would be longer than she might want.

She should have tried the dress on the first day she brought it from the weaver's daughter. Perhaps, in that case she would have discovered that it was way too large at the waist to flatter her looks earlier than two hours before the wedding.

Ah, here it was! Relieved, Aerwain pulled her old goldish girdle out of the capacious belly of the trunk and rushed after the trinket-case where she remembered a stock of spare pins was covering with dust.

"I can fetch Beleg, if you're so picky," grumbled Rúmil sulkily. The comment was followed by a quiet, but distinctly scoffing chuckle of more patient Orophin.

"Better fetch me my mantle," responded Aerwain, crack opening the door, "It hangs over the settee down there."

Rúmil vanished as if taken off by a gust of severe wind. Orophin observed his hasty departure with a soft smile before turning to face Aerwain.

"May I come in?" asked he amiably.

"Do," nodded she and stepped aside to let the ellon in. Inside the chamber he shook his head to dismiss her invitation to sit down.

Well, there was no time to insist.

Sorely wishing that she had another couple of hands, Aerwain pressed the pins between her lips and attempted to fix the dress at the waist properly and not to pierce her own flesh in doing so.

"Let me help," without waiting for her consent, Orophin kneeled before her to hold the flowing fabric so that she could bring it to order with relative ease.

Aerwain nodded her gratitude silently, mindful of the sharp pins dangerously close to her tongue.

"Aerwain, be kind to answer one question," he was not looking at her, yet even the way he spoke was enough to put her on her guard at once. His tone was too grave for her to like it.

Truth be told, she had never been at ease with Orophin. Stating it directly, she was watchful of him. Rúmil was quite another pair of shoes. A former trainee of her father, he just failed to produce a more or less serious impression on her even now, when she had long quit being the daughter of his immediate officer. Not that he seemed to care about it. Unlike her intended, Rúmil wasn't prone to playing immaculate and unapproachable.

Orophin, on the contrary, had much of Haldir about him. The same distant attitude, the same coldish voice, the same cutting intonations. She never had a chance to know him well enough and that made her wary about all that came from him. And twice wary now that she thought she could predict what subject became of interest for him so suddenly.

"H-m-mm?" murmured she.

"Haldir and yourself," he paused a little, either because the fabric began to escape from under his fingers, or because he was hesitant about what he was going to ask, "Did you … Did you, by any chance, disagree about anything this night?"

Not stirring a brow, Aerwain attached the last pin to her girdle.

"This night I was sleeping, Orophin," lied she placidly, busy with arranging the folds of her hem in a fashion that seemed at least decent.

"You didn't speak then, I assume," Orophin stood up easily.

"We did," Aerwain shrugged her shoulders with a careless air, "I gave him the tunic to wear today. Does he have it on?"

She was taken aback a bit, when he took at her hand, the hold firm enough to prevent her from further sprucing-up.

"Aerwain, do be honest. Did you truly part peacefully?"

She grew awkward under the scrutinizing stare of his light eyes. After all, he was no Haldir, and he, though well-disposed towards her, was definitely free from the Warden's partiality. Trying to mislead him could prove a slippery undertaking, which she'd much rather avoid. No wish she had to appear scheming and insincere in the eyes of her future family.

"Why the questions, I wonder?" asked Aerwain, assuming a look that she hoped appeared puzzled enough.

"Haldir hasn't been all cheerful for the last few hours. To say the least," elucidated Orophin with a frown of preoccupation, "If I didn't know he was going to marry today, I'd think he'd been sent to death. Don't take me wrong, but he doesn't look like a happy bridegroom at all."

It unsettled her to feel a perceptible pang of conscience come to life in her chest. Did she press too hard yesterday?

"Did he say anything that you found insulting?" the brother of her betrothed kept inquiring, "If so, I apologize for him. I'm most certain that he never meant to offend you."

She braved a weak smile, well-aware of the risks of both showing surprise and indifference at the statement. Whence the thought had come to Orophin's head, there had to be solid grounds for that. After a moment of hesitation Aerwain settled for a counter question, which committed her to nothing.

"What makes you think he offended me?"

"Rúmil and I stayed at his house this night. He came back much earlier than we expected. Locked himself in up his chamber. I don't know whether he managed to take a seat for a moment – I gather it's not likely that he did. He's been tossing in four walls like cursed. Muttering something. I didn't hear much, but sweet, I wasn't born yesterday. And I know the meaning of the words I chanced to hear him calling himself."

"It's not good to eavesdrop on your own brother, Orophin," remarked she more briskly than she should have.

"Believe me, I didn't have to eavesdrop. He wasn't very quiet. You should know him, he finds it hard to be endearing. Consider that I speak on his behalf and forgive him, sweet. He scorched himself enough."

"I'm getting married to him in a mere hour. Do you believe I would do that be I so mortally insulted?"

"I don't know you that well, Aerwain," Orophin shook his head unsmilingly, "What I beg is not to hurt him. It won't cost you a thing."

His seriousness added to her gnawing anxiety, which was now barely controllable. Even though she still felt her actions could be justified, it was not easy to admit she had wounded Haldir painfully and, what is worse, purposely. And was going to augment this ache, if not for more than a minute.

But she would make up for it later, Aerwain told to herself. Wouldn't she?

"Eru, you must think I'm a heartless rubble," uttered she mildly, hiding her worry behind an awkward smile, "I promise you that whatever happened yesterday was left there."

"Does he know it?" questioned Orophin, studying her intensely.

Never in her life had she thought that the appearance of Rúmil could be such a joy for her.

"Aerwain, would you clarify since when _It hangs over the settee down there _means _Go and comb the house for it_?" groused the breathless ellon, handing her the mantle, which was slightly rumpled already.

"I'm sorry," muttered Aerwain under her nose. Thankful that romping with the wedding attire gave her a pretext not to look into Orophin's eyes, she wrapped her shoulders in aurulent gauze and clasped it with a tiny brooch of gold and amber.

"That is all," said she after the last passing glance into the mirror, "I'm ready."

"Youreabeautyandnowletsgo," blurted out Rúmil, grabbing her by the hand. Orophin joined in the convoy tacitly and they both dragged her out of the house and down the mallorn to fly to the ceremonial house at a neck-breaking speed.

Just as she had supposed, they were unforgivably late. She preferred not to dwell on what her mother could say about that. Happily, they wouldn't have much chance to speak today. And tomorrow it wouldn't matter already. Nothing of it would.

"Why haven't you just shoved me into a sack?" rebelled Aerwain, when Rúmil tugged her over another, and rather a bumpy clearing, like she was a balking horse, refusing to make a step, "At least I wouldn't have to break my legs then."

"Just a little patience," reassured he nonchalantly, "We're almost there."

Now she was seriously alarmed. Another step – and she'd fail to add the last stroke to the picture she had been drawing so laboriously.

"Stop!" pleaded she, the wail ringing with perfectly honest desperation.

Rúmil groaned, having barely managed to halt without knocking her down and falling himself.

"What is it?" Orophin wanted to know as he caught up with them.

"I'm losing my shoe," Aerwain panted out on a note of complain, "The ribbon is almost undone, I cannot walk like this."

"Aerwain!" Rúmil upraised his hands to heaven in a fit of helpless indignation, "Why on earth are you shod at all?"

"I had a prophetic dream, you know," retorted she in her best Beleg's-little-sister voice, "Varda told me you were going to pull me along each stone and hummock here. Go, I'll be after you in a minute."

"Aerwain, don't you think that the bride's attendants should not come up without the bride?" inquired Orophin with perfect, if irksome reasoning.

"It's not that I won't appear at all, is it? Just calm everyone down. Especially my mother, or Haldir will have no one to marry. Don't you waste time here, please!"

The brothers hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances.

"I need to lift my hem to fix it," insisted Aerwain praying they didn't offer just to turn away and wait right here, "High. Go, go! You don't want your brother to think that I ran away with you two, do you?"

"All right, as you say," gave up Rúmil, "Hope you manage to explain it all to Haldir."

"That is not your trouble already," murmured she with a little smirk.

Good that some – or most likely all men held vague notion of how much time it really took women to deal with their clothing, mused Aerwain, as Rúmil and Orophin took themselves off reluctantly. Having checked her shoes just in case any of the ribbons was undone, indeed, she sneaked between the trees noiselessly to find herself two steps away from the clearing in front the ceremonial house. Carefully she leaned against one of the mallorns, and peeped out to take a stock of the guests before they noticed her.

Everyone seemed to be present already. There were her parents and her aunt with an invariable flock of daughters, the latter all fidgety and teary-eyed in advance. Aerwain sniffed a little as she noticed Gwilwileth and Arvrog, hand in hand, a perfect picture of happy spouses. Haldir stood at some distance in the company of smiling Beleg. With certain satisfaction Aerwain noted that her bridegroom had kept his promise and put on the tunic.

True it was that he didn't seem elated. A seal of gloomy waiting on his face hardly did his countenance any good. The one and only time that Beleg somehow managed to distract him from peering under his feet steadily Aerwain got a chance to see the dark, almost blackish shadows, lying in the deepened pits above the Warden's cheek-bones. The tint of his irises withered from azure to dingy gray within one single night.

Rúmil and Orophin lead themselves into the clearing to be greeted by a chorus of relieved voices, which, however, subdued after the guests had noticed her absence. And Haldir didn't remain blind to it, too.

His face fell, turning drawn and lurid, as if a poisonous blade had suddenly found its way into his body.

Stepping up to his brothers, he uttered something that she guessed was a question about her, because Rúmil smiled reassuringly and waved his hand to where the three of them had parted.

Even from where Aerwain was she could see how hard Haldir started, a mute, desperate plea fleeting in his eyes as he traced the indicated direction.

Acutely sensitive of the strain that had seized his brother so suddenly, Rúmil knit his brows, touching the Warden's shoulder with an anxious frown.

Haldir attempted a smile which turned out a total failure. Instead of coming up, the corners of his lips jerked down for one short instance, as he was obviously struggling not to let his dismay show through.

Just as she had supposed he believed in her escape at once. The absence of Tarlangion only added to the verisimilitude of such a happening. Evidently subduing to the momentary weakness, he motioned to leave the clearing – to catch her on her way, perhaps, but checked himself almost immediately.

His confusion passed on to those present. There wasn't a single smiling face now among the arrivals, as for her mother… Aerwain shifted her eyes back to Haldir quickly lest her whimpering conscience should succeed in shoving her out into the clearing before she heard what she wanted.

The Warden's chest went up and down, as he sighed in a defeated fashion. His head high, he stepped forward, beckoning everyone to look at him.

"I pray you listen to me," announced he huskily, "I fear I must tell you …"

She would never have a better moment for her entrance.

"Here I am. You are not leaving yet, are you?" chanted Aerwain, diving out of the shadows and smiling at one and all apologetically, "I hope you were not bored."

Haldir cut off amid the phrase. Fortunately, nobody lent much heed to his staggered look, as he silently accepted her hand which Aerwain stretched out for him. But when she left it in his hold, turning away to send another nod to the guests, she felt his fingers clasp around hers tightly and his lips warm – or rather burn her skin.

"Just don't be cross with your brothers," urged she, putting her palm on the Warden's shoulder, "It's not their fault that I'm so awkward."

"You came," mistrust resounded in his low, unsteady voice.

"It's her wedding, Haldir," reminded Beleg justly.

The Warden cast him a short glance, but Aerwain could swear that he didn't even see her brother. Almost at once his attention was drawn to her hand, which had moved from his arm to his chest caressingly.

"You are very handsome in this tunic," she smoothed out a little wrinkle at his collar, causing Haldir to shake himself up a bit and fold his mouth in a wan resemblance of a smile.

"Who will look at me today?" replied he on a quiet note. She longed to believe the courtesy held as much of concealed affection as all his previous remarks of the kind, but it was blank and matter-of-fact, as if he had left each single feeling behind the door of his house when closing it after him some hours ago.

"I will," assured she sincerely to be rewarded by a faint gleam of softness that came to his eyes.

"I hate to ruin the moment, but can we proceed to where you are finally married?" cut in impatient Rúmil.

"We - can," laughed Aerwain, the burden partially removed from her heart, "And you'll have to wait here, you know. Haldir?"

The March Warden didn't stir, looking down at their intertwined fingers. His thumb was brushing against the rear of her hand, stroking it so lightly, that it was impossible to say whether he himself was aware of that.

"Do I seem too heavy?" asked she quietly.

Having answered with neither a smile, nor a word, Haldir drew up to her slowly. Aerwain's breath was caught in her chest, as the familiar arms picked her up, and he stepped under the arch of wreathing branches, away from the clearing and their past lives.

* * *

The silver engagement ring on her finger gave place to the one Haldir had brought to her from his last mission.

She kept silence, when her husband was carrying her out of the ceremonial house, just like he had carried her into it a whole eternity ago.

Throughout the rite he appeared tense and detached, hardly listening into the words, half-sung, half-recited by Lady Galadriel.

In vain Aerwain tried to discern a trace of any emotion in him. Alas. He wasn't content, nor was he surprised or distempered. A statue of cold stone by her side, nothing more, nothing less.

Only once something changed in his face – as the final phrase was pronounced and she turned to him timidly, ready for a due ending of the ceremony.

Suddenly enlivened, he captured her mouth in a swift kiss, which tasted not of passion but of despair for her. Feeling guiltier than ever, Aerwain let her lips part in an invitation for a bolder caress, unbecoming as it could be for an innocent bride. Yet he had already took hold of himself, releasing her with a short noise of what she believed was apology.

The clearing cheered happily at their sight, some of the arrivals splintering off the crowd to head in their direction with broad smiles.

Unsurprisingly, Beleg was the first to make it for them, while the others were only half-way through the clearing.

"Will you allow?" asked he, reaching to get Aerwain out of Haldir's arms.

The Warden set her free without objections, having tarried only for an instance to make sure Beleg was holding her securely enough.

With a small sigh she laid her cheek against the sleek tunic of her brother. Beleg chuckled, his lips touching her hair for a moment.

"I hope you're glad, little sister," whispered he in her ear before putting her back on the ground.

"Don't doubt it," assured Aerwain and pushed him off a little, "Your turn now."

"I wouldn't be in such a hurry," grinned he naughtily.

Still smiling, she moved away to join Haldir and his kin who had come up to deliver their part of congratulations.

"May I, too, behave brotherly now?" asked Rúmil, squeezing Aerwain in a tender hug, "Or do you still have something against it?"

She shook her head with a short laugh.

"Aerwain," nodded Orophin reservedly, "Haldir. Have been waiting for so long, brother, haven't you?"

Despite the unambiguous address, Aerwain couldn't help thinking that the last words were intended for her, rather than for her husband, as though Orophin was once again inducing her to be milder or trying to bring it home to her that she meant much for Haldir.

Not so unfair, considering she appeared to be the last who realized that it was really so.

Gradually, the rest of felicitators started to approach, and it soon became hardly possible first to distinguish between her family and those, invited by Haldir, then to answer each portion of well-wishes in person…

Smothered in hugs and kisses from, it seemed, all women of Lothlorien, Aerwain moved out of the circle of guests to take a sip of air and was surprised to find Gwilwileth right in front of her, smiling a tiny winsome smile.

"Congratulations, Aerwain sweet," crooned the beauty below her breath.

There truly was something strange about her conduct today - a suggestion of mischief and secret triumph, which Aerwain knew too well and which she couldn't expect to see under the circumstances. After all that had happened it would be more natural to suppose that the wife of Arvrog would demonstrate unrest or jealousy, yet nobody would call Gwilwileth thrown off her balance now. Quite on the contrary, she was composed, yet discreetly skittish, as if rejoicing over something up her sleeve.

"Thank you," uttered Aerwain at last, leaning in to receive a short kiss on the cheek from the golden-haired butterfly.

Whoever desired to wish her love and joy next, she never knew. All at once, the general complacent humming was ripped up by a rougher and a more rhythmical sound, in which it was not hard to recognize handclaps.

The one whom it came from was walking to her in a leisured pace, maneuvering between the guests with a mien of gloomy satisfaction that definitely didn't bode well.

"Way to go, my heart," drawled Tarlangion ironically as he ceased applauding at last, "You still sold yourself for the good name."

He advanced to her so threateningly that she recoiled on instinct, running her back into her husband who appeared to be standing mere inches away from her. Haldir must have been prepared for it – without a sound he put his arms around her and pulled her close against him, towering behind her like a somber bodyguard.

The sight of the Warden, silent or not, seemed to bring Tarlangion down to earth to a certain extend.

At least, he stopped where he was although not with what he was doing.

"How touching. A beautiful wedding," continued he, looking around the clearing, "A beautiful bride. Let me guess what you all think… _We knew that all along. We knew they were going to marry. _Far from it, you eyeless! In sober truth, our little girl had to be accused of disposing of her chastity in a wrong way to resign and accept his hand. And no wonder the brave Warden called himself a seducer gladly, once it allowed him to have her. How happy she must be today, do you imagine? Are you happy, Aerwain?"

Oh, now she wasn't happy at all.

It all of a sudden occurred to Aerwain that deep inside she had been waiting for something like this to come. It would have been strange and unnatural if she had missed being revenged for plotting.

She wasn't Gwilwileth. She should never have taken it into her head to act like one. When someone like Gwilwileth or Tarlan decided to jerk their surrounding by the strings, the fate rarely got even with them, perhaps, because it had created them for this role. Or because they were experienced enough to foresee all the consequences of their doings and escape them.

Now that Aerwain herself ventured into an intrigue, it couldn't end in anything except a failure.

"Tarlangion, you're mad-," her lips refused to obey her.

"Oh, please, cut it short!" interrupted Tarlan with a cold jeer, "Dare say that I lie! Even you are not that silly, my heart. Or should we ask your lovely friend how she belied you? Gwilwileth?"

Much to Aerwain's surpsise, Gwilwileth remained serene, although neither the smirk on her shapely lips, nor the glint in her lucid eyes could be called especially familial, as she deigned to meet the flaring gaze of her brother. Yet she uttered not a word. Or, may be, didn't manage to, because there was someone else who spoke in her stead.

"Not sparing even your sister, are you, swellhead?"

Beleg's tone was cutting like a bare dagger.

"How would I dare, Beleg?" Tarlangion stepped back, raising his hands in mock fright, "With you standing up for her… By the way, Arvrog, it doesn't bother you, does it?"

"I should have been bothered if nobody had tried to tame your tongue, Tarlan," responded Arvrog placidly, his posture copying that of Haldir – with the only difference that his arms, clasped over the shoulders of his wife, were much more relaxed than the arms of the Warden around Aerwain's body, "Thankfully, you are the only twaddler here, as Beleg proves."

"I envy your self-assurance, then, Arvrog. And you, sister, will you, for a change, tell them the truth?"

The wrangle promised to become a noisy one. Little by little Aerwain's diffidence was melting, superseded first by growing irritation, then by plain, breathtaking anger.

Who did he think he was? If he held such a burning desire to right a wrong, he should have had his say when the storm had broken out, instead of beating around the mallorn and offering her to disgrace herself. Now it all seemed no more than vengeance for his wounded self-esteem.

"Gwilwileth, what is he talking about? How did you belie me?" addressed she to her former friend in a tone of outraged virtue. She had little doubts as of what the answer would be.

"I have no idea, Aerwain," replied Gwilwileth, not batting an eye-lash, "I'd lash him out, but isn't it funny? At least now you'll have something to remember about your wedding. Wouldn't it be all too common without him?"

"Or without you, on that point," scolded Tarlangion maliciously, "Although yes, I forgot. According to you, their wedding has taken place long ago. At least in what concerns husbandly duties."

The murmur of resentment rose among the guests, who up to the moment had been keeping dazed silence. Rúmil flung himself forward with a clear intention to finish the scene in a violent way, and would have succeeded in that if it hadn't been for Orophin, whose fingers dug into the shoulder of his hot-tempered brother, perhaps even before the latter thought of giving Tarlangion his due.

Not in the least bothered with Rúmil's indignant outcry, Orophin was eyeing Aerwain now – morosely, although without spite. One look at him was enough to realize that for him everything had finally fallen into place.

If she had only been more careful with Tarlan… Who made her agree with him then when he claimed to be aware of why she was marrying Haldir? What pushed her to mock at him, and set up Haldir, and Gwilwileth, and her parents… And Beleg, perhaps, for who would believe that he knew nothing of it all?

"Tarlangion, what you say is nonsense," Aerwain breathed out, almost helplessly now, "Stop it, please, it's indecent and upsetting."

"Oh, really?" Tarlan was unrelenting, "Is it less indecent and upsetting to lay yourself into his bed happily ever after?"

"Tarlangion."

She gave a start, having almost forgotten that her now husband, who remained wordless throughout the whole skirmish, could do more than just hold her in embrace.

"I'm here, Tarlangion," reminded Haldir, his deep voice sounding ice itself, "Just wondering when you'll remember about it."

"Why should I? I'm not talking to you," Tarlangion bared his teeth in an unkind grin, "Haldir."

"You are talking to my wife. And about my wife," enunciated the Warden calmly, "And I'd rather have you courteous when you do."

"Your wife!" sniffed Targlangion, "You got her only because it sticks in her throat to bring it all to light."

"Perhaps, you'd better ponder over why _you_ didn't get her," snapped Haldir, not for a moment losing his composure, "Though I guess by now it's clear to everyone."

"Aerwain," probably realizing that he had little to set against Haldir, Tarlan appealed to her again, "We both know why you marry him. Do not hope that I go before I hear that from you."

"Would you stake your head on it?" wondered Beleg with a derisive smile. Someone uttered a peal of uncertain laughter, making Tarlangion snarl in the direction of the scoffer.

"Beleg," uttered Aerwain reproachfully.

"I love him," added she, shifting her eyes to irate Tarlan now.

Haldir drew in a sharp breath behind her back, quietly, yet audibly enough to her strained hearing. Varda, she was a positive dimwit to say something like this without the slightest regard to how it might sound for him.

"I love Haldir," she made amends in a soft voice, "I would … be with him for no other reason, Tarlan."

"It's not-" Tarlangion didn't finish the phrase.

"Can I resolve your dispute somehow?"

The question rang gently over the clearing, in a blink of an eye suppressing each single sound. The guests span around as one and came to a numb standstill.

The majestic figures of the Lord and the Lady were looming in the shadowy passage to the ceremonial house.

"Shouldn't you be feasting now?" slowly Lady Galadriel set foot on the high grass and walked into the circle of her homagers.

The elves stooped in hasty bows. Everyone. Except Aerwain.

Her reasoning had to be obscured by all that had happened and could still happen. But, perhaps, she was fated to think her best only when the odds were against her.

Lost as she was now, she didn't fail to grasp what her last hope lay with.

"My Lady!"

The Queen turned to her pleading outcry with a look of inquiry.

Outrageous temerity... But was there any choice left?

"You won't let me lie," asserted Aerwain despairingly, "I married Haldir for love. I love him. Do I not say the truth now?"

Faultless, depthless, ageless eyes measured her to the bottom – each word, each thought…each wish and each secret.

It took all her strength to bear it. All her daring not to falter. Yet now she could either stand or fall. And she stood.

The time slowed down. Halted. And rushed on, when the Lady inclined her head in welcome confirmation.

"You do, child."

For a heartbeat or two all Aerwain knew was that the Warden's hands had closed down hard on her shoulders all of a sudden only to relax again, coming to perfect immobility.

She would give much to see his face, but her very first attempt to pull away met gentle, yet categorical resistance, through which she eventually found herself nestled even closer against Haldir, his warm breath stirring a loose wisp of hair at her temple ever so lightly.

"Celebrate your marriage, Haldir," the Lady urged with a ghost of a knowing smile, "The night is young."

"I will, my Lady," said the Warden mildly, making a small bow first at the Lady, then at Lord Celeborn, who had approached to stand by the Queen tacitly, "My Lord."

With a corner of her eye Aerwain caught sight of Tarlangion, pale and enraged, but seemingly surrendered. His jaws clenched in a spiteful grimace, he shrugged angrily and, much to her relief, left the clearing in quick steps, hindered by no one.

She would have pitied him, if she had had just a moment before Haldir let her go finally and left his place behind her back in favour of stepping into her view.

…long ago…a little girl…fell in love with a mature, haughty friend of her elder brother…Too silly a start. Too common a story.

But though she might have forgotten how this alloy of arrogance and softness in his face used to take the ground from under her feet, she did recall it now. The memory was not a galling one, yet nonetheless it made Aerwain shudder involuntary, for only now she realized that from that moment she belonged to him fully. And the realization was overwhelming.

"My…love?" the Warden held his hand out for her, his voice a tenderer caress than any of the kisses she had ever received from him.

Dizzy with the same bittersweet anticipation, she gave a nod and let him lead her between the guests to where their chairs at the head of the wedding table had long been waiting. For both of them.


	16. Ambivalence

**A/n: **_Well, my dear readers, this journey comes to its official end. :) Congratulations._

_Thank you for your wond__erful comments and your patience. I'm glad I came up with something you found interesting. _

_As I've already said, I've started a sequel, concentrated around Beleg. The first chapter can be found at my livejournal. Just go to my profile here and click the "homepage link". One thing I ask for is to give me some feedback, if you are going to read it. Thank you in advance. _

_And I'd very much appreciate it if you reviewed this last chapter. :) Will you? *batting her eye-lashes* Thanks! _

**Chapter 16**

_**Ambivalence**_

_I'd have you, quoth he._

_  
Would you have me? quoth she._

_  
...O where, sir?_

_In my chamber, quoth he._

_In your chamber? quoth she._

_...Why there, sir?_

_To kiss you, quoth he._

_To kiss me? quoth she._

_...O why, sir?_

_'Cause I love it, quoth he._

_Do you love it? quoth she._

_...So do I, sir._

- Anonymous

The last note died off sadly and quietly, but Arvrog did not hasten to put the lute aside, nor did the listeners break their mesmerized silence to reward him with undoubtedly deserved applause. The afterglow of the ballad was still lingering in their hearts, reviving faded memories, opening long-unremembered wounds, healing the new ones…

She had already forgotten breath-taking voice he had. Against all good sense, he was less than inclined to exercise his talent.

Aerwain smiled at the singer, who paid for the sign of appreciation with a reserved nod and withdrew himself from the spot of general attention with a listless, rather than modest air. She followed his walk until it ended at the far fringe of the clearing where smirking Gwilwileth stretched her hand out to him. He accepted it without a word, for a moment leaning in deeply so that the long, ever-kempt hair curtained his profile and made it impossible to say whether his lips really dwelled upon the fingers of his wife or the kiss was placed on air. Knowing Arvrog and his ways, Aerwain dared suppose he shouldn't show himself as lavish of dearness as he had already proved to be this evening, but would Gwilwileth look down on him with that discreet flash of almost a dark triumph in her eyes, if he hadn't performed the ritual of worship up to the end?

Shrugging her shoulders, Aerwain turned away not to reflect upon what she had no right to judge about.

It was late – many an hour after the midnight. She had long since unbraided her much-suffering hair, letting it fall on her shoulders freely – the web of braids and golden lace was not something she was ready to tolerate on her head for the whole eternity. If anything, it was cumbrous and hair-pulling. For a moment she wondered whether wedding hairdos were really supposed to emphasize the beauty of those who wore them, or their intended purpose was to remind the happy brides that a married life was not all milk and honey. At least, her case seemed to be the latter rather than the former.

Having made sure no one was demonstrating much need in her, Aerwain sank into her chair with a sigh of relief. Finally she could afford some rest.

The worries of the ceremony, multiplied by quite a number of sleepless nights told upon her at last, making her somewhat dizzy and a little sore-headed.

Rubbing her temples, she cast a guarded look around the clearing, hopeful to find her husband among, it seemed, a fair thousand of celebrants.

Surprisingly, they didn't spend much time side by side this evening. There were invariably some duties to attend, which scarcely gave them a chance to exchange a word. A speech to answer, a guest to give a minute to, a joke to laugh at. She danced with the younger scouts and childhood friends, and answered the gushing chirrup of the ladies, praising her looks and her choice, he gave himself to a more painstaking task of entertaining those who preferred a conversation on the gravest subjects over a light-headed merrymaking, even when the occasion called for it least of all…

Just like Gwilwileth, Aerwain held it best not to stuff either of their houses with those wishing to attend the celebration and upon the silent assent of Haldir it had been settled to move the feast outside. Now, viewing the number of joyful guests, neither of which manifested the slightest wish to leave, Aerwain once again congratulated herself on the only sane idea which she had given birth to in respect of the matter.

Strangely, there still were no traces of Haldir around. For the better, perhaps. The thought of being left in comparative solitude with him now was throwing her off her balance to an extent beyond which she knew there were only shiver, and stuttering, and a dry mouth. She didn't question her own willingness to give him whatever he felt like asking for - as far as it didn't cover the explanation concerning the last days' events.

But…being completely honest, now that everything fell into the right places, she was more than a little unsettled by the knowing that it's not just wine and dances that made the wedding feast what it was.

She had never once visioned herself close with Haldir. The times when he held her in his arms could be counted on the fingers of one hand. Both of them had always been playing the parts, which their age, and status, and story had imposed on them. Even in dire straits.

Even in love.

The courtship, which other fiancées enjoyed for a year, had narrowed to a few hours in her fairy-tale. A few hundred of minutes to get accustomed to his thirst for her and learn to answer it.

Oh, yes, she was flying the white feather.

She wished him to be hers.

But she'd never known what it was to think of giving herself to him.

…Throughout the evening he was keeping near her, but never enough for a touch, not taking into account the kiss they shared when the first toast for their love was delivered. For an hour or two it unsettled her, until little by little she began to notice that even at a distance he never quit watching her – discreetly and unobtrusively…if for one single moment, when, levelling her glass with that of another congratulator and raising it to her mouth with a smile, she had to flinch unexpectedly and refuse her intention, seized by unfamiliar discomfort.

The Warden was standing at the opposite end of the wedding table, in the circle of his fellows, yet, though they made a more than lively talk, he was far from involved in whatever they were discussing with such zest. Instead, he was staring at her intensely, his eyes fixed at her lips, which were nearly touching the silver rim of the goblet.

A shadow passed across his face as he found out that his observing her was clandestine no more. With a small start the Warden shook himself up and lowered his head a little, acknowledging his attention. Meant to appear full of decency, the bow turned out ambiguous nonetheless, for, as if to disconcert her even more, Haldir never looked down; quite on the contrary, his glance acquired a sharper, heavier feeling to it, the one she couldn't find a name for.

Confused almost into blushing, Aerwain still found no strength to turn away, but it soon appeared unnecessary. He did it in her stead - to give a word or two to one of the talkers, who finally noticed that the lucky bridegroom had been excluded from their conversation.

Since that silent exchange of stares she couldn't catch him looking in her direction anymore. Perhaps, he held it better not to embarrass her, or wished not give food to excessive gossip. Yet, something told Aerwain, that, having been exposed, the Warden simply grew more careful with his vigil.

Only that she was unable to intercept his glances didn't mean he had stopped watching her.

That is why she didn't intend to set out in search of her husband. She had a feeling he wouldn't be slow to turn up, seeing her here in complete solitude.

Aerwain put a hand over her mouth, covering a little yawn. The company had long quit paying their enthusiastic attention to the heroes of the day, and the celebration grew into a general cheerful mishmash of dancing, laughing and killing time.

She winced, as someone touched her shoulder softly.

Right she was, not having taken particular pains to spot Haldir. He was quite able to find her himself, when he wanted.

"I didn't want to scare you," said he on a note of apology.

"No trouble," murmured she, unwilling to show how much she was unsettled by the fact that his hand remained where he had put it. Moreover, light as the motion was, she still felt his fingers tighten and ease carefully, and then again till Aerwain knew it for sure she didn't just imagine all that.

"I guess I was just…lost in thoughts," ended she in half-whispers.

"Rúmil's started a tag game there," Haldir nodded in the direction of the adjoined clearing, from where short outcries of triumph and cheerful giggles were wafting incessantly, "Shall we take a look?"

Aerwain considered the offer for a short while. His blank intonation not in the least allowed her to say whether he really cared for watching his kin go round the bend in the company of ten more light heads, or simply supposed she would fall for a pretext to prolong the evening for another hour.

On the other hand, the prospect of diving into that sea of noise again did not smile at her at all. Wedding games had already served her a bad turn once.

Besides…this feast had to be over sooner or later.

"No," refused she without further hesitations, "I'm tired. Let us leave."

The smile, up to that barely traceable, disappeared from the Warden's lips completely.

"If milady wishes," uttered he slowly. Giving herself no time to change her mind, Aerwain got up with a little nod.

She had already witnessed his talent of growing from under the ground where he was totally unexpected, and vanishing as swiftly when he chose to, but it had never occurred to her that he was quite able to practice such tricks even if encumbered by more than a troublesome and tired companion. And yet at one moment they stood in the middle of a fading, though still mirthful celebration, her arm drawn within his, and the other she was already guided through the dim quietness of nightly Lothlorien, the quietness of almost a dead kind as compared to the never-ending hum that had been filling her ears for the last few hours.

His dwelling was close to the celebration spot they had chosen. Too close, in fact, to set Aerwain at rest about a possible encounter with some of the guests, exhausted by the delights of the evening and seeking hush and solitude deeper in the woods.

She held her breath, flinching a little at the soft rustle of mallorn leaves somewhere dangerously near them.

Not a soul. Just another sigh of the drowsy wind. She stole a quick glance at the Warden, half-expecting him to ask if something was wrong. He did not look at her. Torn between relief and disappointment, Aerwain peered under her feet with a slight frown.

"There's no one around, Aerwain," said he all of a sudden. Mildly.

She never managed to convince herself there was no reason for her to feel so pathetic…

Fortunately enough, the wood let out no more noises to shake her already poor self-control, and they ended the walk in silence, if for a quiet "Thank you" which she murmured out of the sheer habit as he was helping her up the mallorn with a careful hand.

He held the door open, leaving it to her to lead the way inside.

No, she didn't expect him to carry her over the threshold, but still…

The hall was dark. The house – empty.

"Some wine?"

"No, thank you," replied Aerwain stumblingly, not exactly sure whether it was not better to accept the offer and allow herself a moment of collecting her thoughts. To say she felt uneasy was not even to hint at the state of helpless disarray she was in.

The pause that followed seemed quite enough to pronounce the names of all the guests who had graced the celebration with their presence today – letter by letter.

To make sure the lump of ice that her body was could still serve her, Aerwain walked over to one of the deep chairs in the middle of the hall and took a seat, without much success trying to keep in mind that she didn't have to wait for an invitation. After all, didn't she own the owner of this place now?

"I hope the feast didn't wear you out," he spoke calmly, which made it much harder for her to persuade herself that her stay in the house wasn't just an occasional five-minute visit of politeness.

"Just a little," replied she in an absurdly indifferent tone. Haldir was still and unsmiling, holding by the door where she had left him. There was nothing in his posture that could tell Aerwain he was content, having finally obtained the hoped-for rights on her, or impatient to exercise even the most trifle of these rights.

Another minute of this courtly silence, and she could swear she would believe there had been no wedding at all.

Fairly unbearable to go on this way.

"Haldir, come up. Please."

Aerwain was relieved to discover that he was still as inclined to obey to her as he was disinclined to speak. Lingering for not a moment, he took off his post to settle in the chair next to hers. She couldn't recall whether she had ever seen him seating as relaxed before, his weight shifted to the forearms, which were resting on the slightly parted laps. His hands were brought together, with the fingers clasped tighter than they would be, were he as calm as he seemed.

Wasn't it silly to keep acting out a palace reception?

"Are you cross with me?" asked she downright.

The Warden raised his eyes at her swiftly. For a breath his face dropped all expression except a faint surprise, which almost at once gave place first to understanding, then – to mildness, unalloyed and easily fathomed, even despite the absence of a smile.

"I'm getting used to you," responded he plainly.

It wasn't something she could answer at once, if a confession such as that demanded an answer at all.

Aerwain reclined against the chair-back, listening into the silence that surrounded them, not so strained now but still plain awkward.

A ribbon of pale light tangled in the twisting maze of embroidery, which covered the Warden's collar. A small motion - and the ray ran against another silvery curl, falling into a whole constellation of dim sparkles.

"You were on thin ice yesterday," said Haldir at last.

Colour rushed to her cheeks before the phrase ended.

"I wasn't," was all she laboured out.

Not something that could be called an intelligible reaction. It was just too difficult to choose between the fine selection of admonitions someone else would surely enough produce in her place. She could say she'd never really doubted his honour. She could say she wouldn't have let him go too far. She could say there had been Beleg in the house, awake and prepared to emerge in her chamber at a single call of hers. Although the last claim was hardly appropriate under the circumstances.

As always, Haldir thought up what was missing easily – and not in a way that she could put up with.

"So it was still Beleg," murmured he with a nod of comprehension, "If perchance he needs my recommendation, I'll be sure to mention his loyalty."

"Beleg said not a word to me," protested Aerwain, resenting the idea of seeing her brother answerable for the contrivance, whose only author was her own very self.

The Warden gave her a quick, knowing glance.

"I can tell black from white, Aerwain," the bland reproach made her flush even deeper red, but she didn't give up.

"Always?" inquired she quietly.

He winced a little, looking at her as if it was the first time she had made herself heard, and then inclined his head in resignation.

"You are right," confessed he with a chuckle.

She smiled wanly, plunging into uncomfortable silence again.

It didn't feel like the poor exchange of remarks had cleared the air in any way.

Now the Warden was sitting back, too, staring at the wedding band around his finger unseeingly.

He revealed no intentions to reduce the distance between them. Neither did he ask her to do it.

Didn't he need her anymore?

She couldn't stop toying with her brooch, nearly breaking her nails against the carved amber. If the clasp gave way, she'd be sure to tear the mantle or prick her neck...if it gave way…

If she gave way to…

"Haldir, help me, please," slurred she in a thin voice, absurdly fearful of glancing up at her silent husband, "I…I don't think I can unclasp it."

It took all her resolve to stumble through the last words without taking them back there and then.

Would she ever believe she had dared say that?

Thankfully, the Warden didn't make her repeat the request.

She had never felt as small and defenseless as when he rose from his seat and stepped up to her, reaching out for the brooch slowly.

The trinket came undone without the slightest resistance, proving her guilty of deception…or shamelessness. She had no time to get terrified at her own deed, before the mantle, now held by nothing, slithered off her shoulders into Haldir's grasp.

She shouldn't have induced him to get up. Somehow having him tower above her when she herself was still shrinking in the chair made it all even worse. Suppressing the urge to curl up more, Aerwain forced a weak smile and held her hand out to take both the brooch and the mantle away from him.

Her heart shrivelled, as he disregarded the gesture in favour of catching her under the elbow softly, so she had no choice left but to stand up, too, appearing face to chest with him. With a corner of her eye Aerwain watched him deliver himself from her wearables. His hand went up again, but only to close around hers and pull it up to his heart, the motion both a plea and an order. There her palm remained, lying gingerly over his tunic, while she didn't feel equal either to taking it away, or to going further and sliding it up to his neck as he might have hoped she would do.

She had to tilt her head up at last, when Haldir took her by the chin – very carefully…though even that unassuming touch appeared enough to reduce her into numbness and wordlessness.

The very tip of his thumb brushed against the fringe of her eyelashes, drew a soft line down her cheek, contoured her mouth…

Aerwain took a shaky breath, the air burning her lips cruelly.

She wished she could make bold and ask him for a kiss, like she had once done it. Or brave a smile, when he bent over her, cupping her face to bring it against his unhurriedly. Or…

"I'd kiss you, Aerwain," claimed he in a listless undertone, "If you didn't think that begging becomes me more."

Large-eyed and abashed, she started back on instinct, but he caught her up gently, giving her no chance to move farther than a step away from him.

His pupils were wider than she thought they could be, so wide that the blue rims around them seemed non-existent.

He had always been a better master of his voice than of himself. She didn't have to wait too long till he broke in his own determination to flirt with her guilt.

Blood pounded in her ears louder than ever, but she still heard the throaty sound that he exhaled, drawing her body into him. For many a time within the last month she believed she had learnt the meaning of the word "overwhelming" well enough. The kiss that he sealed her lips with made her falter in this belief once again.

Aerwain froze in momentary bewilderment, like each time his mouth captured hers.

A silly shred of a thought passed through her mind, unbidden, yet striking in its clarity.

It still was not what Gwilwileth had described it to be.

Or was it?

It was hard not to let herself imagine what he was thinking about, when she couldn't but sigh her defeat, yielding to the strength of his embrace.

How many times had he been picturing it to himself?

The Aerwain that he'd seen with him then had surely been more responsive than the panicking nonsense of a bride he was kissing now. Like those he had held in his arms, perhaps, long before she was born, for the skill, he was basing at her feet, could not have been acquired from a single trial at courtship.

The pang of jealousy was novel – sickening. The realization of her own clumsiness embittered her. Longing for comfort, Aerwain moved closer to the Warden to be welcomed by a remedy of a softer kiss.

For a wink it seemed to her that he smiled against her lips.

In a flash of insight she was conscious of her power over him again. Something strangely akin to cruelty woke up within her – a twisted sensation, a tingling wish to make him pay for the years of indifferent looks, and empty words, and uncaring smiles. For the last half-an-hour, wasted in unrest and self-reproaches.

Before she knew it, her hands were making a journey up his back, and now there left no doubts as of what feeling was sending him into shiver under her touch.

Wittingly she relaxed in his arms and let him savour her pliancy, making no attempts to return the kiss until his breathing was as uneven as her heartbeat.

His mouth was ardent, insistent, imploring…protesting. Hers – no more than permissive, the flow-with-the-current game teasing her pride and filling her with insufferable pleasure.

And then she kissed him, too, diligently repeating all she had learnt from him within the last few minutes. Lingering, when he persisted. Urging, when he tarried. Each trifle touch, each small pause, each stroke of a tongue. She must have appeared a good pupil - quite deserving the reward of a small moan her efforts had elicited from him.

His renewed passion tasted sweeter than his disarray.

That is why it was more than frustration when out of the blue the Warden pulled himself away with a short sigh, as if her touch began to hurt him.

Uncomprehending, Aerwain made a reach for him, but he shook his head brusquely and stepped back farther, pale and scant of air.

An age had passed before he beckoned her closer again.

Haldir didn't force her into anything. She simply missed that single gesture of his, after which she was embracing him no more. His arms were as tight around her waist, yet now he stood behind her, depriving her of a chance to look into his eyes.

Amazing how much of her composure depended on having him in her view. The illusion of control was falling into pieces like a shattered mirror.

And it still felt right to connive at his caresses - to be enthralled and fascinated by the way his hand slipped down her neck and lower…Aerwain arched her back, oblivious to anything but the twinges of delight that slowly drained her of every single thought and care…up to the moment his fingers travelled on, almost reaching the knot of her waistband.

…There were so many pins, holding that hideous dress on its place.

No bride had ever appeared as unkempt before her husband as she would when he finally succeeded in untying the girdle.

"Wait," begged Aerwain out-loud, growing cold as the words left her mouth.

Varda the great. It looked like even a wedding night was not a reason solid enough for her to cease making a fool of herself.

Haldir stopped stiff, not having touched her waist.

"Yes, milady," the blank and prosy tone was manifestly not something he could attain right now.

"Pins," she forced out in a miserable voice.

The Warden uttered a strange noise, something between a groan and a chuckle, and stooped low to bury his face in her tangled hair.

"Mercy," he breathed out hoarsely.

Aerwain didn't bring herself to stutter an apology. He would hardly have listened to one, anyway – would hardly have listened to anything.

Perhaps, she hadn't entered this house in a proper mode. Perhaps, she should have been offended by the fact that he hadn't bothered to carry her in, as the custom demanded it.

It all didn't matter. He made up for the omission to the full, having seen to it that her feet never touched the floor all the way into the bedchamber she was to share with him from that day on.

A single pillow on the unwrinkled covers. Not a perfect marriage bed, not meant to be one at all. She did a good job of convincing the Warden that suchlike preparations would be ridiculous, if not pitiful.

Her thoughts trailed off, brought to nothing by the touch of his hand against her burning cheek.

She knew they would be stepping on those pins for weeks and weeks ahead…

The dress rustled down her shoulders in a cold waterfall and fell at her toes softly.

Days later it was still impossible to remember what the several hours before the dawn had been to her. The only recollections she could afford were those of trifling, irrelevant details, floating out of her memory like splinters of someone else's dream.

…How she blushed and shuddered, enveloped by the lukewarm night air. How he stepped back, his darkened eyes intense and stormy as she braved a glance at him at last. How he clenched his jaws for an instant before a crooked, pained ghost of a smile touched his lips and vanished without a trace.

His tunic showed all but black against the glittering gauze of her dress. And the sheets felt smooth and cool to her bare skin.

And she looked at him in a daze, almost in awe, till his shadow slipped over her body, shielding it from the covetous touch of the moonbeams.

How could a simple breath scald like melted iron?

The rest was ...fever, and confusion, and yearning, and closed eyes, and gasps which he drank off her mouth…and the chilly scent of early predawn, that his skin appeared to carry, when she placed the first irresolute kiss on his chest.

A whirlwind of nothing and everything…until he came to a halt, the sudden pause bringing her back to where they lay in crumpled covers, already close, but still not bound…His hair spilling over her breast and the pillow. Her hand resting between his shoulder-blades.

"Aerwain," a forced-out whisper, coarse like sea-salt, and yet luscious to her ear, "Stop me. Say no."

She tarried, if for a moment…frightened…victorious…relieved to hear herself utter a single word – the one he'd deserved to hear from her long ago.

"Yes…"

* * *

"…Haldir, am I desirable?" purred a man's voice languidly.

The elleth broke into quiet, melodious laughter.

"No, she didn't!" forced she through the fits of merriment.

"Take my word," grinned her companion, raising his right hand in a solemn oath-taking gesture, "Punched myself not to snigger."

For a moment the lady was earnestly trying to keep a straight face – to no particular success, as the laugh came back to torture her together with an image, drawn by the sneering ellon so vividly.

"I'm beginning to feel quite inferior to your sister," sighed out she, when able to speak more or less coherently again, "Poor Haldir…"

"Poor Haldir, my foot!" groaned he with mock indignation, "I wish somebody took care of me as I took care of him."

"Oh, tell me how much you need it. So helpless and lonely," jeered the lady, smiling hardly a compassionate smile.

The statement was left unanswered. In silence the fingers of the ellon stole into the golden avalanche of his lady's hair that was flowing down his grayish vest freely. She stirred a little, settling more comfortably in the circle of his arm. Although she was apparently the luckier of them two, having his body to recline against, while he had to be content with pretty a coarse mallorn trunk.

His mouth ghosted against the silken tresses, and she turned to him slightly, yet no tenderness came to her ivory face, and his eyes were as calm and empty of fervor as hers.

"It was too dangerous, Gwilw," growing serious, murmured he into her temple, "Your wedding, after all."

"What else could I do? I've been hunting him down for three weeks and that appeared the only time when we were alone and Aerwain was watching us. We'd discussed it a hundred of times with you, what could go wrong?"

"You should have waited for me."

"And miss a perfect chance?" sniffed the lady, waving off the remark, "By the by, did you really intend to give my brother a dusting?"

"I love your trust in me," chuckled he derisively, "Someone else would ask whether I was going to scuffle with him."

"Someone else would overestimate Tarlan, then. So did you?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"If you do not pity him, why should I?"

"I do pity him. Otherwise he would have been married to your sister."

The thin, contemptuous lips of the ellon twitched, folding into a sneer of such a deep disdain, that it was hard to believe it belonged to someone so composed and boyish.

"Like fun."

His voice was heavy, not a tang of the former carelessness resounding in its even flow.

"I won't argue. He's as bad a match for Aerwain, as she is for him."

"Good point," his smirk still kept enough poison to send to death a hundred of Tarlangions, "Besides, if he made her unhappy, I'd have his perfect guts wound around my hand."

"Yes, that was another weighty argument," nodded the beauty with utter graveness, "His perfect guts are perfect where they are."

"Be it so, as soon as they are far from Aerwain… You don't miss being friends with her, do you?"

It was she who gave a shrug this time, running her finger up and down his broad chest absent-mindedly.

"I am my brother's sister. And some things just exhaust themselves. She's sweet, but too nice for me. Although she's a quick learner," concluded she with a little sly laugh.

"Better say I got her a good whipping boy," murmured he smugly.

"Wait till you're flogged yourself."

"Oh, yes," drawled the ellon under his nose, "I shall live and hope."

The glade was discolouring slowly, drowning in thick nightly mist. Very soon the dress of the elleth appeared the only light spot, yet un-devoured by the general grayness, its lent-lily sheen merely subdued to pale waxen.

A sole bird tossed between the trees to settle somewhere above their heads and engage in self-forgetful warbling. The lady looked up without much curiosity, while her companion remained quite motionless, still keeping her close to his side. For a long while the couple was gazing through the darkness mindlessly, until the ellon broke the silence again.

"Your husband sings well," observed he in a placid manner.

"He does," acknowledged she on a disinterested note.

"Why did you marry him?"

"You didn't offer anything, Beleg," said she plainly, "And don't tell me it rendered you broken-hearted."

He grimaced mildly, almost but not shaking his head.

"As long as you do not change…"

The bird took off its place as swiftly as it had appeared and dove into the hushful wood with a plaintive chirp.

"I must be going," remarked the elleth at last, sitting up in the arms of her companion, "Arvrog should have returned by now."

"Go," agreed the ellon with nonchalant eases, detachedly calm even as she freed herself from his hold and rose to her feet in one swift motion. He himself didn't hurry to leave the glade, watching her through the leisurely narrowed eyelashes.

"Gwilw."

She turned around at the quiet call, tinted with habitual mild irony. He was smiling again, his white teeth glistening in the clear-featured face.

"Be careful around me. Perhaps, I'm planning to elope with you to Mirkwood."

Another peal of laughter came off her lips, soft and nearly affectionate now.

"May be, some day…"

"Yes," murmured he, resting his head against the tree and closing his eyes, "May be."

THE END.

_Thanks for having stayed with us. ___


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